,^^^' '^i' 



:W 



..s^ -^^ 



A' 



A^' ^/>. 






v> ^ 






% 



■^^ .\\\^ 



^>r7^\^ .^ 



^"^^ 












^0 



-^ 



A v^ 












A^' 


•> 


^ 


v i. 


'■ a' 






^^ 




.^^-•^ 






>. 


V^^ 


* c' 






i° 


^^. 


'■' 






o' 




'^b' 






»■■ 


/'/ 


^'h 


"' 


' 


T- , ?^ 




*^ -p. 












.^' 



.^^ '^^^ 



O LV 






'^. *.•>^o- 



^,S^' 



-c-^^ 



x\^' ^y> 






v -^ 






■^ '\ 



oO 



/'■^>j;^%\_ Z^:^^^ 



^0■ 



:\. 



-^,# 



■'bo'' 



S I 






, \' 



■% 






.0 o^ 






v'?-' 



\:^^''^y.o 






•V 



A 



/. 






-'*</„ 



xO'^io 



% 










V- 




NATURAL HISTORY OF 
INTELLECT 

AND OTHER PAPERS 



BY 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON 



WITH A GENERAL INDEX TO EMERSON'S 
COLLECTED WORKS 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFUN AND COMPANY 



T2> \L 1^ 



Copyright, 1893, 
By EDWARD W. EMERSON. 

All rights reserved. 

t t *08 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 3fass., U.S.A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 



PREFATORY NOTE. 



iffi 



I The first two pieces in this volume are lectures 

rom the " University Courses " on philosophy, 

^iven at Harvard College in 1870 and 1871, 

3y persons not members of the Faculty. " The 

Natural History of the Intellect " was the subject 

hich Emerson chose. He had, from his early 

jyouth, cherished the project of a new method 

in metaphysics, proceeding by observation of the 

Imental facts, without attempting an analysis and 

/coordination of them which must, from the nature 

'of the case, be premature. With this view, he 

had, at intervals from 1848 to 1866, announced 

courses on the "Natural History of Intellect," 

"The Natural Method of Mental Philosophy," 

and " Philosophy for the People." He would, he 

said, give anecdotes of the spirit, a calendar of 

mental moods, without any pretence of system. 

None of these attempts, however, disclosed any 
novelty of method, or indeed, after the opening 



PREFATORY NOTE. 

.lent of his intention, any marked differenc 

3m his ordinary lectures. He had always bee 
ritixig anecdotes of the spirit, and those whic' 
he wrote under this heading were used by hir 
in subsequently published essays so largely that 
find very little left for present publication. Th 
lecture which gives its name to the volume w? 
the first of the earliest course, and it seems to . 1 
to include all that distinctly belongs to the pal 
ticular subject. 

The lecture on " Memory " is from the samJ 
course ; that on " Boston " from the course oi| 
"Life and Literature," in 1861. The other pieces 
are reprints from the " North American Review ' 
and the " Dial." 

To this final volume of Mr. Emerson's writings] 
an index to all the volumes has been appended. 
It was prepared by Professor John H. Woods, 
of Jacksonville, Illinois, but has undergone some 
alterations for which he is not responsible. 

J. E. Cabot. 

September 9, 1893. 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 



i HAVE used such opportunity as I have had, 
and lately ^ in London and Paris, to attend scien- 
tific lectures ; and in listening to Richard Owen's 
masterly enumeration of the parts and laws of the 
human body, or Michael Faraday's explanation of 
magnetic powers, or the botanist's descriptions, one 
could not help admiring the irresponsible security 
and happiness of the attitude of the naturalist ; 
sure of admiration for his facts, sure of their suf- 
ficiency. They ought to interest you ; if they do 
not, the fault lies with you. 

Then I thought — could not a similar enumera- 
tion be made of the laws and powers of the Intel- 
lect, and possess the same claims on the student ? 
Could we have, that is, the exhaustive accuracy of 
distribution which chemists use in their nomencla- 
ture and anatomists in their descriptions, apj^lied 
to a higher class of facts ; to those laws, namely, 
which are common to chemistry, anatomy, astron- 

1 1850. 



4 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

omy, geometry, intellect, morals, and social life ; — 
laws of the world ? 

Why not? These powers and laws are also 
facts in a Natural History. They also are objects 
of science, and may be numbered and recorded, 
like stamens and vertebrse. At the same time 
they have a deeper interest, as in the order or 
nature they lie higher and are nearer to the mys- 
terious seat of power and creation. 

For at last, it is only that exceeding and univer- 
sal part which interests us, when we shall read in 
a true history what befalls in that kingdom where 
a thousand years is as one day, and see that what 
is set down is true through all the sciences ; in the 
laws of thought as well as of chemistry. 

In all sciences the student is discovering that 
nature, as he calls it, is always working, in wholes 
and in every detail, after the laws of the human 
mind. Every creation, in parts or in particles, is 
on the method and by the means wbich our mind 
approves as soon as it is thoroughly acquainted 
with the facts ; hence the delight. No matter how 
far or how high science explores, it adopts the 
method of the universe as fast as it appears ; and 
this discloses that the mind as it opens, the mind 
as it shall be, comprehends and works thus ; that 
is to say, the Intellect builds the universe and is 
the key to aU it contains. It is not then cities or 



NATURAL HTSTORY OF INTELLECT. 6 

mountains, or animals, or globes that any longer 
command us, but only man ; not the fact but so 
much of man as is in the fact. 

In astronomy, vast distance, but we never go into 
a foreign system. In geology, vast duration, but we 
are never strangers. Our metaphysic should be 
able to follow the flying force through all trans- 
formations, and name the pair identical through 
all variety. 

I believe in the existence of the material world 
as the expression of the spiritual or the real, and 
in the impenetrable mystery which hides (and 
hides through absolute transparency) the mental 
nature, I await the insight which our advancing 
knowledge of material laws shall furnish. 

Every object in nature is a word to signify some 
fact in the mind. But when that fact is not yet 
put into English words, when I look at the tree or 
the river and have not yet definitely made out 
what they would say to me, they are by no means 
unimpressive. I wait for them, I enjoy them be- 
fore they yet speak. I feel as if I stood by an 
ambassador charged with the message of his king, 
which he does not deliver because the hour when 
he should say it is not yet arrived. 

Whilst we converse with truths as thoughts, 
they exist also as plastic forces ; as the soul of a 
man, the soul of a plant, the genius or constitution 



6 NATURAL HISTOBY OF INTELLECT. 

of any part of nature, which makes it what it is. 
The thought which was in the world, part and 
parcel of the world, has disengaged itself and taken 
an independent existence. 

My belief in the use of a course on philosophy 
is that the student shall learn to appreciate the 
miracle of the mind ; shall learn its subtle but 
immense power, or shall begin to learn it; shall 
come to know that in seeing and in no tradition 
he must find what truth is ; that he shall see in it 
the source of all traditions, and shall see each one 
of them as better or worse statement of its revela- 
tions ; shall come to trust it entirely, as the only 
true ; to cleave to God against the name of God. 
When he has once known the oracle he will need 
no priest. And if he finds at first with some alarm 
how impossible it is to accept many things which 
the hot or the mild sectarian may insist on his 
believing, he will be armed by his insight and 
brave to meet all inconvenience and all resistance 
it may cost him. He from whose hand it came 
will guide and direct it. 

Yet these questions which really interest men, 
how few can answer. Here are learned facidties 
of law and divinity, but would questions like these 
come into mind when I see them? Here are 
learned academies and universities, yet they have 
not propounded these for any prize. 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 7 

Seek the literary circles, the stars of fame, the 
men of splendor, of bon-mots, will they afford me 
satisfaction ? I think you could not find a club of 
men acute and liberal enough in the world. Bring 
the best wits together, and they are so impatient 
of each other, so vulgar, there is so much more 
than their wit, — such follies, gluttonies, partiali- 
ties, age, care, and sleep, that you shall have no 
academy. 

There is really a grievous amount of unavail- 
ableness about men of wit. A plain man finds 
them so heavy, dull and oppressive, with bad jokes 
and conceit and stupefying individualism, that he 
comes to write in his tablets. Avoid the great man 
as one who is privileged to be an unprofitable com- 
panion. For the course of things makes the schol- 
ars either egotists or worldly and jocose. In so 
many hundreds of superior men hardly ten or five 
or two from whom one can hope for a reasonable 
word. 

Go into the scientific club and hearken. Each 
savant proves in his admirable discourse that he 
and he only knows now or ever did know anything 
on the subject; "Does the gentleman speak of 
anatomy ? Who peeped into a box at the Custom 
House and then published a drawing of my rat ? " 
Or is it pretended discoveries of new strata that 
are before the meeting ? This professor hastens to 



8 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

inform us that he knew it all twenty years ago, 
and is ready to prove that he knew so much then 
that all further investigation was quite superfluous ; 
— and poor nature and the sublime law, which is 
all that our student cares to hear of, are quite 
omitted in this triumphant vindication. 

Was it better when we came to the philosophers, 
who found everybody wrong ; acute and ingenious 
to lampoon and degrade mankind ? And then 
was there ever prophet burdened with a message 
to his people who did not cloud our gratitude by a 
strange confounding in his own mind of private 
folly with his public wisdom ? 

But if you like to run away from this besetting 
sin of sedentary men, you can escape all this insane 
egotism by running into society, where the man- 
ners and estimate of the world have corrected this 
folly, and effectually suppressed this overweening 
self-conceit. Here each is to make room for others, 
and the solidest merits must exist only for the 
entertainment of all. We are not in the smallest 
degree helped. Great is the dazzle, but the gain is 
small. Here they play the game of conversation, 
as they play billiards, for pastime and credit. 

Yes, 'tis a great vice in all countries, the sacrifice 
of scholars to be courtiers and diners-out, to talk 
for the amusement of those who wish to be amused, 
though the stars of heaven must be plucked down 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 9 

,and packed into rockets to this end. What with 
egotism on one side and levity on the other we 
shall have no Olympus. 

But there is still another hindrance, namely, 
practicality. We must have a special talent, and 
bring something to pass. Ever since the Norse 
heaven made the stern terms of admission that a 
man must do something excellent with his hands 
or feet, or with his voice, eyes, ears, or with his 
whole body, the same demand has been made in 
Norse earth. 

I Yet what we reaUy want is not a haste to act, 
'but a certain piety toward the source of action and 
knowledge. In fact we have to say that there is a 
certain beatitude, — I can call it nothing less, — to 
(Which all men are entitled, tasted by them in dif- 
ferent degrees, which is a perfection of their na- 
ture, and to which their entrance must be in every 
way forwarded. Practical men, though they could 
lift the globe, cannot arrive at this. Something 
very different has to be done, — the availing our- 
selves of every impulse of genius, an emanation of 
ithe heaven it tells of, and the resisting this con- 
spiracy of men and material things against the 
sanitary and legitimate inspirations of the intel- 
lectual nature. 

What is life but the angle of vision ? A man is 
nneasured by the angle at which he looks at objects. 



( 



10 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

What is life but what a man is thinking of all 
day? This is his fate and his employer. Know- 
ing is the measure of the man. By how much we 
know, so much we are. 

The laws and powers of the Intellect have, how-' 
ever, a stupendous peculiarity, of being at once ob[ 
servers and observed. So that it is difficult to hold 
them fast, as objects of examination, or hinder them 
from turning the professor out of his chair. The 
wonder of the science of Intellect is that the sub- 
stance with which we deal is of that subtle and ac- 
tive quality that it intoxicates all who approach it. 
Gloves on the hands, glass guards over the eyes, 
wire-gauze masks over the face, volatile salts in the 
nostrils, are no defence against this virus, which 
comes in as secretly as gravitation into and through 
all barriers. 

Let me have your attention to this dangerous 
subject, which we will cautiously approach on dif- 
ferent sides of this dim and perilous lake, so attrac- 
tive, so delusive. We have had so many guides 
and so many failures. And now the world is still 
uncertain whether the pool has been sounded or 
not. 

My contribution will be simply historical. I 
write anecdotes of the intellect ; a sort of Farmer's 
Almanac of mental moods. I confine my ambition 



NATUBAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 11 

to true reporting of its play in natural action, 
though I should get only one new fact in a year. 

I cannot myself use that systematic form which 
is reckoned essential in treating the science of the 
mind. But if one can say so without arrogance, 
I might suggest that he who contents himself 
with dotting a fragmentary curve, recording only 
what facts he has observed, without attempting to 
arrange them within one outline, follows a system 
also, — a system as grand as any other, though he 
does not interfere with its vast curves by prema- 
turely forcing them into a circle or ellipse, but only 
draws that arc which he clearly sees, or perhaps at 
a later observation a remote curve of the same 
orbit, and waits for a new opportunity, well-assured 
that these observed arcs will consist with each 
other. 

I confess to a little distrust of that completeness 
of system which metaphysicians are apt to affect. 
'T is the gnat grasping the world. All these ex- 
haustive theories appear indeed a false and vain at- 
tempt to introvert and analyze the Primal Thought. 
That is up-stream, and what a stream ! Can you 
swim up Niagara Falls ? 

We have invincible repugnance to introversion, 
to study of the eyes instead of that which the eyes 
see ; and the belief of men is that the attempt is un- 
natural and is punished by loss of faculty. I share 



) 
12 NATUBAL BISTOBY OF INTELLECT. 

the belief that the natural direction of the intellect- 
ual powers is from within outward, and that just 
in proportion to the activity of thoughts on the 
study of outward objects, as architecture, or farm- 
ing, or natural history, ships, animals, chemistry, — 
in that proportion the faculties of the mind had a 
healthy growth ; but a study in the opposite direc- 
tion had a damaging effect on the mind. 

Metaphysic is dangerous as a single pursuit. 
We should feel more confidence in the same results 
from the mouth of a man of the world. The in- 
ward analysis must be corrected by rough experi- 
ence. Metaphysics must be perpetually reinforced 
by life ; must be the observations of a working-m 
on working-men ; must be biography, — the recc j 
of some law whose working was surprised by t j 
observer in natural action. 

I think metaphysics a grammar to which, on 
read, we seldom return. 'T is a Manila full of pe 
per, and I want only a teaspoonful in a year, 
admire the Dutch, who burned half the harvest 
enhance the price of the remainder. 

I want not the logic but the power, if any, whic 
it brings into science and literature ; the man wh 
can humanize this logic, these syllogisms, and giv( 
me the results. The adepts value only the pure 
geometry, the aerial bridge ascending from earth t( 
heaven with arches and abutments of pure reason 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 13 

I am fully contented if you tell me where are the 
two termini. 

My metaphysics are to the end of use. I wish 
to know the laws of this wonderful power, that I 
may domesticate it. I observe with curiosity its 
risings and settings, illumination and eclipse ; its 
obstructions and its provocations, that I may learn 
to live with it wisely, court its aid, catch sight of 
its splendor, feel its approach, hear and save its 
oracles and obey them. But this watching of the 
mind, in season and out of season, to see the me- 
chanics of the thing, is a little of the detective. 
The analytic process is cold and bereaving and, 
shall I say it ? somewhat mean, as spying. There 
is something surgical in metaphysics as we treat it. 
Were not an ode a better form ? The poet sees 
wholes and avoids analysis; the metaphysician, 
dealing as it were with the mathematics of the 
mind, puts himself out of the way of the inspira- 
tion ; loses that which is the miracle and creates 
the worship. 

I think that philosophy is still rude and element- 
ary. It will one day be taught by poets. The 
poet is in the natural attitude ; he is believing ; 
the philosopher, after, some struggle, having only 
reasons for believing. 

What I am now to attempt is simply some 



14 NATURAL HISTOBY OF INTELLECT. 



sketches or studies for such a picture ; 3Iemoin 
pour servir toward a Natural History of Intellec 

First I wish to speak of the excellence of th 
element, and the great auguries that come from 
notwithstanding the impediments which our sensi 
civilization puts in the way. 

Next I treat of the identity of the thought wil 
Nature ; and I add a rude list of some by-laws 
the mind. 

Thirdly I proceed to the fountains of thought 
Instinct and Inspiration, and I also attempt 
show the relation of men of thought to the existing 
religion and civility of the present time. 

I. We figure to ourselves Intellect as an ethe- 
real sea, which ebbs and flows, which surges d 
washes hither and thither, carrying its who: ;• 
tue into every creek and inlet which it bathes -o 
this sea every human house has a water i t. 
But this force, creating nature, visiting who.. 
will and withdrawing from whom it wiU, mal 
day where it comes and leaving night when it 
parts, is no fee or property of man or angel. It 
as the light, public and entire to each, and on t 
same terms. 

What but thought deepens life, and makes i 
better than cow or cat ? The grandeur of the ii 
pression the stars and heavenly bodies make on ' 



NATURAL HISTOBY OF INTELLECT. 15 

is surely more valuable than our exact perception 
of a tub or a table on the ground. 

To Be is the unsolved, unsolvable wonder. To 
Be, in its two connections of inward and outward, 
the mind and nature. The wonder subsists, and 
age, though of eternity, could not approach a so- 
lution. But the suggestion is always returning, 
that hidden source publishing at once our being 
and that it is the source of outward nature. Who 
are we and what is Nature have one answer in the 
life that rushes into us. 

In my thought I seem to stand on the bank of a 

iver and watch the endless flow of the stream, 

oating objects of all shapes, colors and natures ; 

or can I much detain them as they pass, except by 

unning beside them a little way along the bank. 

,But whence they come or whither they go is not 

/told me. Only I have a suspicion that, as geolo- 

/ gists say every river makes its own valley, so does 

this mystic stream. It makes its valley, makes its 

banks and makes perhaps the observer too. Who 

has found the boundaries of human intelligence? 

Who has made a chart of its channel or approached 

the fountain of this wonderful Nile ? 

I am of the oldest religion. Leaving aside the 
question which was prior, egg or bird, I believe the 
mind is the creator of the world, and is ever creat- 
ing;— that at last Matter is dead Mind; that 



\ 



16 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

mind makes the senses it sees with ; that the( 
genins of man is a continuation of the power that 
made him and that has not done making him. 

I dare not deal with this element in its pure 
essence. It is too rare for the wings of words. 
Yet I see that Intellect is a science of degrees, 
and that as man is conscious of the law of vege- 
table and animal nature, so he is aware of an Intel- 
lect which overhangs his consciousness like a sky, 
of degree above degree, of heaven within heaven. 

Every just thinker has attempted to indicate 
these degrees, these steps on the heavenly stai.^^. 
until he comes to light where language fails liir 
Above the thought is the higher truth, — truth t \ 
yet undomesticated and therefore unformulated. J 

i 

It is a steep stair down from the essence of In- ' 

tellect pure to thoughts and intellections. As thes 
sun is conceived to have made our system by ]mrl-\ 
ing out from itself the outer rings of diffuse ether ^ 
which slowly condensed into earths and moons, by 
a higher force of the same law the mind detaches 
minds, and a mind detaches thoughts or intellec- 
tions. These again all mimic in their sphericity 
the first mind, and share its power. 

Life is incessant parturition. There are v\\\- 
parous and oviparous minds ; minds that produce 
their thoughts complete men, like lu-med soldiers, 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 17 

ready and swift to go out to resist and conquer all 
the armies of error, and others that deposit their 
dangerous unripe thoughts here and there to lie 
still for a time and be brooded in other minds, and 
the shell not be broken until the next age, for them 
to begin, as new individuals, their career. 

The perceptions of a soul, its wondrous progeny, 
are born by the conversation, the marriage of 
souls; so nourished, so enlarged. They are de- 
tached from their parent, they pass into other 
minds ; ripened and unfolded by many they hasten 
to incarnate themselves in action, to take body, 
only to carry forward the will which sent them 
but. They take to themselves wood and stone and 
i!^f)n ; ships and cities and nations and armies of 
m]en and ages of duration ; the pomps of religion, 
tjhe armaments of war, the codes and heraldry of 
states; agriculture, trade, commerce; — these are 
ijjhe ponderous instrumentalities into which the 
(iiimble thoughts pass, and which they animate and 
alter, and presently, antagonized by other thoughts 
which they first aroused, or by thoughts which are 
sons and daughters of these, the thought buries it- 
self in the new thought of larger scope, whilst the 
old instrumentalities and incarnations are decom- 
posed and recomposed into new. 

Our eating, trading, marrying, and learning are 
mistaken by us for ends and realities, whilst they 



18 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

are properly symbols only ; when we have come, 
by a divine leading, into the inner firmament, we 
are apprised of the unreality or representative 
character of what we esteemed final. 

So works the poor little blockhead manikin. He 
must arrange and dignify his shop or farm the best , 
he can. At last he must be able to tell you it, o' 
write it, translate it all clumsily enough into tie 
new sky-language he calls thought. He canntt 
help it, the irresistible meliorations bear him fo- 
ward. 

II. Whilst we consider this appetite of the mill 
to arrange its phenomena, there is another ist 
which makes this useful. There is in natu. a 
parallel unity which corresponds to the unityu 
the mind and makes it available. This metho^- 
ing mind meets no resistance in its attempts. ^3 
scattered blocks, with which it strives to forn. t* 
symmetrical structure, fit. This design following^ 
after finds with joy that like design went before. 
Not only man puts things in a row, but things be- 
long in a row. I 

It is certain that however we may conceive of\ 
the wonderful little bricks of which the world is • 
builded, we must suppose a similarity and fitting 
and identity in their frame. It is necessary to 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 19 

suppose that every hose in nature fits every hy- 
drant; so only is combination, chemistry, vegeta- 
tion, animation, intellection possible. Without 
identity at base, chaos must be forever. 

And as mind, our mind or mind like ours reap- 
pears to us in our study of nature, nature being 
everywhere formed after a method which we can 
well understand, and all the parts, to the most 
remote, allied or explicable, — therefore our own 
organization is a perpetual key, and a well-ordered 
mind brings to the study of every new fact or class 
of facts a certain divination of that which it shall 
find. 

This reduction to a few laws, to one law, is not 
a choice of the individual, it is the tyrannical in- 
stinct of the mind. There is no solitary flower and 
no solitary thought. It comes single like a foreign 
traveller, — but find out its name and it is related 
to a powerful and numerous family. Wonderful 
is their working and relation each to each. We 
hold them as lanterns to light each other and our 
present design. Every new thought modifies, in- 
terprets old problems. The retrospective value of 
each new thought is immense, like a torch applied 
to a long train of gunpowder. To be isolated is to 
be sick, and in so far, dead. The life of the All 
must stream through us to make the man and the 
moment great. 



20 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

Well, having accepted this law of identity per- 
vading the universe, we next perceive that whilst 
every creature represents and obeys it, there is 
diversity, there is more or less of power ; that the 
lowest only means incipient form, and over it is a 
higher class in which its rudiments are opened, 
raised to higher powers ; that there is development 
from less to more, from lower to superior function, 
steadily ascending to man. 

If man has organs for breathing, for sight, for 
locomotion, for taking food, for digesting, for pro- 
tection by house-building, by attack and defence, 
for reproduction and love and care of his young, 
you shall find all the same in the muskrat. There 
is a perfect correspondence ; or 't is only man modi- 
fied to live in a mud-bank. A fish in like manner 
is man furnished to live in the sea ; a thrush, to fly 
in the air ; and a mollusk is a cheap edition with a 
suppression of the costlier illustrations, designed 
for dingy circulation, for shelving in an oyster- 
bank or among the sea-weed. 

If we go through the British Museum or the 
Jardin des Plantes in Paris, or any cabinet where 
is some representation of all the kingdoms of 
nature, we are surprised with occult sympathies ; 
we feel as if looking at our own bone and flesh 
through coloring and distorting glasses. Is it not 
a little startling to see with what genius some peo- 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 21 

pie take to hunting, with what genius some people 
fish, — what knowledge they still have of the 
creature they hunt? The robber, as the police- 
reports say, must have been intimately acquainted 
with the premises. How lately the hunter was 
the poor creature's organic enemy ; a presumption 
inflamed^ as the lawyers say, by observing how 
many faces in the street still remind us of visages 
in the forest, — the escape from the quadruped 
type not yet perfectly accomplished. 

From whatever side we look at Nature we seem 
to be exploring the figure of a disguised man. 
How obvious is the momentum in our mental his- 
tory! The momentum, which increases by exact 
f^aws in falling bodies, increases by the same rate 
m the intellectual action. Every scholar knows 
that he applies himself coldly and slowly at first to 
his task, but, with the progress of the work, the 
inind itself becomes heated, and sees far and wide 
l^s it approaches the end, so that it is the common 
remark of the student. Could I only have begun 
with the same fire which I had on the last day, I 
should have done something. 

The affinity of particles accurately translates the 
affinity of thoughts, and what a modern experi- 
menter calls " the contagious influence of chemical 
action " is so true of mind that I have only to read 



22 XATUEAL HISTOEY OF lyTELLECT. 

the law that its application may be evident : *• A 
body in the act of combination or decomposition 
enables another body, with which it may be in 
contact, to enter into the same state.'* And if one 
remembers how contagious are the moral states of 
men. how much we are braced by the presence and 
a<?tions of any Spartan soul : it does not need 
vigor of our own kind, but the spectacle of ^^gor 
of any kind, any prodigious power of performance 
wonderfully arms and recruits us. There are those 
who disputing will make you dispute, and the 
nervous and hysterical and animalized will pro- 
duce a like series of symptoms in you, though no 
other persons ever evoke the like phenomena, and 
though you are conscious that they do not properly 
belong to you. but are a sort of extension of the 
diseases of this particular person into you. 

The idea of vegetation is irresistible in consider- 
ing ment^al activity. ^lan seems a higher plant. 
What happens here in mankind is matched by 
what happens out there in the history of grass ancj. 
wheat. This curious resemblance repeats, in the 
mental function, the germination, growth, state of 
melioration, crossings, blight, parasites, and in 
short all the accidents of the plant. Under every 
leaf is the bud of a new leaf, and not less under' 
every thought is a newer thought. The plant ab- 
sorbs much nourishment from the ^'round in order 



NATURAL HISTOnr OF INTELLECT. 23 

to repair its own waste by exhalation, and keep 
itself good. Increase its food and it becomes fer- 
tile. The mind is first only receptive. Surcharge 
it with thoughts in which it delights and it becomes 
active. The moment a man begins not to be con- 
vinced, that moment he begins to couAance. 

In the orchard many trees send out a moderate 
shoot in the first summer heat, and stop. They 
look all summer as if they would presently burst 
into bud again, but they do not. The fine tree 
continues to grow. The same thing happens in the 
man. Every man has material enough in his ex- 
perience to exhaust the sagacity of Newton in 
working it out. We have more than we use. I 
never hear a good speech at caucus or at cattle- 
show but it helps me, not so much by adding to 
my knowledge as by apprising me of admirable 
uses to which what I know can be turned. The 
commonest remark, if the man could only extend 
it a little, would make him a genius ; but the 
thought is prematurely checked, and grows no 
more. All great masters are chiefly distinguished 
by the power of adding a second, a third, and per- 
haps a fourth step in a continuous line. Many a 
man had taken their first step. With every addi- 
tional step you enhance immensely the value of 
your first. 

The botanist discovered long ago that Nature 



24 NATURAL HISTOEY OF INTELLECT. 

loves mixtures, and tliat nothing grows well on the 
crab-stock, but the blood of two trees being mixed 
a new and excellent fruit is produced. And not 
less in human history aboriginal races are in- 
capable of improvement ; the dull, melancholy 
Pelasgi arrive at no civility until the Phoenicians 
and lonians come in. The Briton, the Pict, is 
nothing until the Roman, the Saxon, the Norman, 
arrives. 

It is observed that our mental processes go for- 
ward even when they seem suspended. Scholars 
say that if they return to the study of a new lan- 
guage after some intermission, the intelligence of 
it is more and not less. A subject of thought to 
which we return from month to month, from year 
to year, has always some ripeness of which we can 
give no account. AVe say the book grew in the 
author's mind. 

In unfit company the finest powers are paralyzed. 
No ambition, no opposition, no friendly attention 
and fostering kindness, no wine, music or exhila- 
rating aids, neither warm fireside nor fresh air, 
walking or riding, avail at all to resist the palsy of 
mis-association. Genius is mute, is dull ; there is 
no genius. Ask of your flowers to open when you 
have let in on them a freezing wind. 

The mechanical laws might as easily be shown 
pervading the kingdom of mind as the vegetative. 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 25 

A man has been in Spain. The facts and thoughts 
which the traveller has found in that country 
gradually settle themselves into a determinate heap 
of one size and form and not another. That is 
what he knows and has to say of Spain ; he cannot 
say it truly until a sufficient time for the arrange- 
ment of the particles has elapsed. 

These views of the source of thought and the 
mode of its communication lead us to a whole sys- 
tem of ethics, strict as any department of human 
duty, and open to us the tendencies and duties of 
men of thought in the present time. 

Wisdom is like electricity. There is no per- 
manent wise man, but men capable of wisdom, who 
being put into certain company or other favorable 
conditions become wise, as glasses rubbed acquire 
power for a time. 

/ An individual body is the momentary arrest or 
fixation of certain atoms, which, after performing 
compulsory duty to this enchanted statue, are re- 
leased again to flow in the currents of the world. 
An individual mind in like manner is a fixation or 
momentary eddy in which certain services and 
powers are taken up and minister in petty niches 
and localities, and then, being released, return to 
the unbounded soul of the world. 

In this eternal resurrection and rehabilitation of 



26 NATURAL HISTOBY OF INTELLECT. 

transitory persons, who and what are they ? 'T is 
only the source that we can see ; — the eternal 
mind, careless of its channels, omnipotent in it- 
self, and continually ejaculating its torrent into 
every artery and vein and veinlet of humanity. 
Wherever there is health, that is, consent to the 
cause and constitution of the universe, there is 
perception and power. 

Each man is a new power in Xature. He holds 
the keys of the world in his hands. No quality in 
Nature's vast magazines he cannot touch, no truth 
he cannot see. Silent, passive, even sulkily Nature 
offers every morning her wealth to man. She is 
immensely rich ; he is welcome to her entire goods, 
but she speaks no word, will not so much as beckon 
or cough ; only this, she is careful to leave all her 
doors ajar, — towers, hall, storeroom and cellar. 
If he takes her hint and uses her goods she speaks 
no word; if he blunders and starves she says no- 
thing. To the idle blockhead Nature is poor, stec- 
ile, inhospitable. To the gardener her loam is all 
strawberries, pears, pineapples. To the miller her 
rivers whirl the wheel and weave carpets and broad- 
cloth. To the sculptor her stone is soft ; to the 
painter her plumbago and marl are pencils and 
chromes. To the poet all sounds and words are 
melodies and rh3i:hms. In her hundred-gated 
Thebes every chamber is a new door. 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 27 

But he enters the world by one key. Herein is 
the wealth of each. His equipment, though new, 
is complete ; his prudence is his own ; his courage, 
his charity, are his own. He has his own defences 
and his own fangs ; his perception and his own 
mode of reply to sophistries. Whilst he draws on 
liis own he cannot be overshadowed or supplanted. 

There are two mischievous superstitions, I know 
not which does the most harm, one, that " I am 
wiser than you," and the other that " You are wiser 
than I." The truth is that every man is furnished, 
if he will heed it, with wisdom necessary to steer 
his own boat, — if he will not look away from his 
own to see how his neighbor steers his. 

Every man is a new method and distributes 
things anew. If he could attain full size he would 
take up, first or last, atom by atom, all the world 
into a new form. And our deep conviction of the 
riches proper to every mind does not allow us to 
admit of much looking over into one another's vir- 
tues. Let me whisper a secret ; nobody ever for- 
gives any admiration in you of them, any overesti- 
mate of what they do or have. I acquiesce to be 
.'Jhat I am, but I wish no one to be civil to me. 

Strong men understand this very well. Power 
fraternizes with power, and wishes you not to be 
like him but like yourself. Echo the leaders and 
they will fast enough see that you have nothing for 



28 yATUBAL HISTOEY OF INTELLECT. 

them. They eaine to you for somethiug they had 
not. 

There is always a loss of truth and power when a 
man leaves working for himself to work for another. 
Absolutely speaking I can only work for myself. 
All my good is magnetic, and I educate not by les- 
sons but by going about my business. AY hen, 
moved by love, a man teaches his child or joins 
with his neighbor in any act of common benefit, or 
spends himself for his friend, or rushes at immense 
personal sacrifice on some public, self-immolating 
act, it is not done for others, but to fulfil a high 
necessity of his proper character. The benefit to 
others is contingent and not contemplated by the 
doer. 

The one thing not to be forgiven to intellectual 
persons is that they believe in the ideas of others. 
From this defei*ence comes the imbecility and fa- 
tigue of their society, for of course they cannot af- 
firm these from the deep life ; they say what th^y 
would have you believe, but what they do not quite 
know. Profound sincerity is the only basis of tajl- 
eut as of character. The temptation is to patroni:.3 
Providence, to fall into the accepted ways of talk 
ing and acting of the good sort of people. 

Each has a certain aptitude for kno\^Tng or doing 
somewhat which, when it appears, is so adapted 
and aimed on that, that it seems a sort of obtuse- 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT 29 

ness to everything else. Well, this aptitude, if he 
would obey it, would prove a telescope to bring un- 
der his clear vision what was blur to everybody 
else. 'T is a wonderful instrument, an organic 
sympathy with the whole frame of things. There 
is no property or relation in that immense arsenal 
of forces which the earth is, but some man is at 
last found who affects this, delights to unfold and 
work it, as if he were the born publisher and de- 
monstrator of it. 

As a dog has a sense that you have not, to find 
the track of his master or of a fox, and as each 
tree can secrete from the soil the elements that 
form a peach, a lemon, or a cocoa-nut, according to 
its kind, so individual men have secret senses, each 
some incommunicable sagacity. And men are pri- 
mary or secondary as their opinions and actions are 
organic or not. 

I know well what a sieve every ear is. Teach 
me never so much and I hear or retain only that 
which I wish to hear, what comports with my ex- 
perience and my desire. Many eyes go through 
the meadow, but few see the flowers. A hunter 
finds plenty of game on the ground you have saun- 
tered over with idle gun. White huckleberries are 
so rare that in miles of pasture you shall not find a 
dozen. But a girl who understands it will find 
ycu a pint in a quarter of an hour. 



80 NATUBAL HISTORY OF IXTELLECT. 

Thouoli the world is full of food we can take 
only the crumbs fit for us. The air rings "«4th 
sounds, but only a few vibrations can reach our 
tympanum. Perhaps creatures live with us which 
we never see, because their motion is too swift 
for our ^-ision. The sun may shine, or a galaxy of 
suns : vou will oet no more lio'lit than your eye will 
hold. What can Plato or Xe^^-ton teach, if you 
are deaf or incapable ? A mind does not receive 
truth as a chest receives jewels that are put into it, 
but as the stomach talies up food into the system. 
It is no longer food, but flesh, and is assimilated. 
The appetite and the power of digestion measure 
our rijiht to knowledo'e. He has it who can use it. 
As soon as our accumulation overruns our inven- 
tion or power to use, the e^-ils of intellectual glut- 
tony begin, — congestion of the brain, apoplexy 
and strangulation. 

III. In reckoning the sources of our mental 
power it were fatal to omit that one which pours 
all the others into its mould : — that unknown 
country in which all the rivers of our kuowlecge 
have their fountains, and which, by its qualities and 
structure, determines both the nature of the waters 
and the direction in which they flow. 

The healthy mind lies parallel to the currents of 
nature and sees things in place, or makes discover- 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 31 

ies. Newton did not exercise more ingenuity but 
less than another to see the world. Eight thought 
comes spontaneously, comes like the morning wind ; 
comes daily, like our daily bread, to humble ser- 
vice ; comes duly to those who look for it. It does 
not need to pump your brains and force thought to 
think rightly. O no, the ingenious person is 
warped by his ingenuity and mis-sees. 

Instinct is our name for the potential wit. Each 
man has a feeling that what is done anywhere is 
done by the same wit as his. All men are his rep- 
resentatives, and he is glad to see that his wit can 
work at this or that problem as it ought to be 
done, and better than he could do it. We feel as 
if one man wrote all the books, painted, built, in 
dark ages ; and we are sure that it can do more 
than ever was done. It was the same mind that 
built the world. That is Instinct. 

Ask what the Instinct declares, and we have lit- 
tle to say. He is no newsmonger, no disputant, no 
talker. 'T is a taper, a spark in the great night. 
Yet a spark at which all the illuminations of hu- 
man arts and sciences were kindled. This is that 
glimpse of inextinguishable light by which men are 
guided ; though it does not show objects, yet it 
shews the way. This is that sense by which men 
feel when they are wronged, though they do not 
see how. This is that source of thought and feel- 



32 NATURAL HISTORY OF IXTELLECT. 

ing which acts on masses of ineii, on all men at 
certain times, with resistless power. Ever at inter- 
vals leaps a word or fact to light wliieli is no man's 
invention, bnt the common instinct, making the 
revolntions tliat never go back. 

This is Instinct, and Inspiration is only this power 
excited, breaking its silence ; the spark bursting 
into flame. Instinct is a shapeless giant in the 
cave, massive, wdthont bands or fingers or articu- 
lating lips or teeth or tongue ; Behemoth, disdain- 
ing speech, disdaining particulars, lurking, surly, 
invincible, disdaining thoughts, always whole, never 
distributed, aboriginal, old as nature, and saying, 
like poor Topsy, " never was born, growed." In- 
different to the dignity of its function, it plays the 
god in animal nature as in human or as in the an- 
gelic, and spends its omniscience on the lowest 
wants. The old Hindoo Gautama says, '*Like 
the approach of the iron to the loadstone is the 
approach of the new-born child to the breast." 
There is somewhat awful in that first approach. 

Tlie Instinct begins at this low point, at the sur- 
face of the earth, and works for the necessities of 
the human being ; then ascends step by step to 
suggestions which are when expressed the inteUec- 
tual and moral laws. 

The mythology cleaves close to nature : and 
what else was it they represented in Pan, god of 



NATURAL UISTOEY OF INTELLECT. 33 

shepherds, who was not yet completely finished in 
god-like form, blocked rather, and wanting the ex- 
tremities ; had emblematic horns and feet ? Pan, 
that is, All. His habit was to dwell in mountains, 
lying on the ground, tooting like a cricket in the 
sun, refusing to speak, clinging to his behemoth 
ways. He could intoxicate by the strain of his 
shepherd's pipe, — silent yet to most, for his pipes 
make the music of the spheres, which because it 
sounds eternally is not heard at all by the dull, but 
only by the mind. He wears a coat of leopard 
spots or stars. He could terrify by earth-born 
fears called panics. Yet was he in the secret of 
nature and could look both before and after. He 
was only seen under disguises, and was not repre- 
sented by any outward image ; a terror sometimes, 
at others a placid omnipotence. 

Such homage did the Greek, delighting in accu- 
rate form, not fond of the extravagant and un- 
bounded, pay to the inscrutable force we call In- 
stinct, or nature when it first becomes intelligent. 

The action of the Instinct is for the most part 
negative, regulative, rather than initiative or im- 
pulsive. But it has a range as wide as human na- 
ture, running over all the ground of morals, of in- 
tellect, and of sense. In its lower function, when 
it deals with the apparent world, it is common- 
sense. It requires the performance of all that is 



34 XATUBAL HISTOEY OF IXTELLECT. 

needful to the animal life and health. Then it re- 
quires a proportion between a man's acts and his 
contiition, requii*es all that is called humanity ; that 
symmetry and connection which is imperative in 
all healthily constituted men, and the want of 
which the rare and brilliant sallies of irregular 
genius cannot excuse. 

If we could retain our early innocence we might 
trust our feet uncommanded to take the right path 
to our friend in the woods. But we have inter- 
fered too often : the feet have lost, by om- distrust, 
theii* proper ^'irtue. and we tiike the wrong path 
and miss liim. *T is the barbarian instinct within 
us which culture deadens. 

'We find ourselves expressed in natiu'e. but we 
cannot trimslate it into words. But Perception 
is the ai-med eye. A ci^-ilization has tamed and 
ripened this savage wit, and he is a Greek. His 
Aye and Xo have become nouns and verbs and 
adverbs. Perception differs from Instinct by add- 
ing the Will. Simple percipiency is the virtue of 
space, not of man. 

The senses minister to a mind they do not knov. 
At a moment in our history the mind's eye opens 
and we become aware of spiritual facts, of rights, 
of duties, of thoughts, — a thousand faces of one 
essence. We call the essence Truth : the pai-ticu- 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 35 

lar aspects of it we call thoughts. These facts, 
this essence, are not new ;' they are old and eternal, 
but our seeing of them is new. Having seen them 
we are no longer brute lumps whirled by Fate, but 
we pass into the council-chamber and government 
of nature. In so far as we see them we share 
their life and sovereignty. 

The point of interest is here, that these gates, 
once opened, never swing back. The observers 
may come at their leisure, and do at last satisfy 
themselves of the fact. The thought, the doctrine, 
the right hitherto not affirmed is published in set 
propositions, in conversation of scholars and phi- 
losophers, of men of the world, and at last in the 
very choruses of songs. The young hear it, and 
as they have never fought it, never known it other- 
wise, they accept it, vote for it at the polls, embody 
it in the laws. And the perception thus satisfied 
reacts on the senses, to clarify them, so that it 
becomes more indisputable. 

^This is the first property of the Intellect I am 
to point out ; the mind detaches. A man is intel- 
lectual in proportion as he can make an object of 
every sensation, perception and intuition ; so long 
a*., he has no engagement in any thought or feel- 
ing which can hinder him from looking at it as 
somewhat foreign. 



36 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

A man of talent has only to name any form or 
fact with which we are most familiar, and the 
strong light which he throws on it enhances it to 
all eyes. People wonder they never saw it before. 
The detachment consists in seeing it under a new 
order, not under a personal but under a universal 
light. To us it had economic, but to the universe 
it has poetic relations, and it is as good as sun and 
star now. Indeed this is the measure of all intel- 
lectual power among men, the power to complete 
this detachment, the power of genius to hurl a new 
individual into the world. 

An intellectual man has the power to go out of 
himself and see himself as an object ; therefore 
his defects and delusions interest him as much as 
his successes. He not only wishes to succeed in 
life, but he wishes in thought to know the history 
and destiny of a man ; whilst the cloud of egotists 
drifting about are only interested in a success to 
their egotism. 

The senses report the new fact or change ; the 
mind discovers some essential copula binding tins 
fact or change to a class of facts or changes, 
and enjoys the discovery as if coming to its own 
again. A perception is always a generalization. 
It lifts the object, whether in material or mo jal 
nature, into a type. The animal, the low degrees 
of intellect, know only individuals. The philoso- 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT 37 

pher knows only laws. That is, he considers a 
purely mental fact, part of the soul itself. We 
say with Kenelm Digby, " All things that she 
knoweth are herself, and she is all that she know- 
eth." Insight assimilates the thing seen. Is it 
only another way of affirming and illustrating 
this to say that it sees nothing alone, but sees each 
particular object in just connections, — sees all in 
God ? In all healthy souls is an inborn necessity 
of presupposing for each particular fact a prior 
Being which compels it to a harmony with all 
other natures. The game of Intellect is the per- 
ception that whatever befalls or can be stated is a 
universal proposition ; and contrariwise, that every 
general statement is poetical again by being par- 
ticularized or impersonated. 

A single thought has no limit to its value ; a 
thought, properly speaking, — that is a truth held 
not from any man's saying so, or any accidental 
benefit or recommendation it has in our trade or 
circumstance, but because we have perceived it is 
a fact in the nature of things, and in all times and 
places will and must be the same thing, — is of 
inestimable value. Every new impression on the 
rnind is not to be derided, but is to be accounted 
for, and, until accounted for, registered as an in- 
disputable addition to our catalogue of natural 
facts. 



38 NATUEAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

The first fact is the fate in every mental percep- 
tion, — that my seeing this or that, and that I see 
it so or so, is as much a fact in the natural history 
of the world as is the freezing of water at thirty- 
two degrees of Fahrenheit. My percipiency affirms 
the presence and perfection of law, as much as 
aU the martyrs. A perception, it is of a necessity 
older than the sun and moon, and the Father of 
the Gods. It is there with all its destinies. It is 
its nature to rush to expression, to rush to embody 
itself. It is impatient to put on its sandals and 
be gone on its errand, which is to lead to a larger 
perception, and so to new action. For thought 
exists to be expressed. That which cannot exter- 
nize itself is not thought. 

Do not trifle with your perceptions, or hold them 
cheap. They are your door to the seven heavens, 
and if you pass it by you will miss your way. 
Say, what impresses me ought to impress me. I 
am bewildered by the immense variety of attrac- 
tions and cannot take a step ; but this one thread, 
fine as gossamer, is yet real ; and I hear a whis- 
per, which I dare trust, that it is the thread on 
which the earth and the heaven of heavens are 
strung. 

The universe is traversed by paths or bridges or 
stepping-stones across the gulfs of space in every 
direction. To every soul that is created is its 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 39 

path, invisible to all but itself. Each soul, there- 
fore, walking in its own path walks firmly ; and to 
the astonishment of all other souls, who see not 
its path, it goes as softly and playfully on its way 
as if, instead of being a line, narrow as the edge of 
a sword, over terrific pits right and left, it were a 
wide prairie. 

Genius is a delicate sensibility to the laws of the 
world, adding the power to express them again in 
some new form. The highest measure of poetic 
power is such insight and facult}?- to fuse the cir- 
cumstances of to-day as shall make transparent the 
whole web of circumstance and opinion in which 
the man finds himself, so that he releases himself 
from the traditions in which he grew, — no longer 
looks back to Hebrew or Greek or English use or 
tradition in religion, laws, or life, but sees so truly 
the omnipresence of eternal cause that he can con- 
vert the daily and hourly event of New York, of 
Boston, into universal symbols. I owe to genius 
always the same debt, of lifting the curtain from 
the common and showing me that gods are sitting 
disguised in every company. 

The conduct of Intellect must respect nothing 
so much as preserving the sensibility. My mea- 
sure for all subjects of science as of events is their 
impression on the soul. That mind is best which 
is most impressionable. There are times when the 



40 NATUBAL HISTORY OF IXTELLECT. 

cawing of a crow, a weed, a snow-flake, a boy's 
willow whistle, or a farmer planting in his field is 
more suggestive to the mind than the Yosemite 
eorsre or the Vatican would be in another hour. 
In like mood an old verse, or certain words, gleam 
with rare significance. 

But sensibility does not exhaust our idea of it. 
That is only half. Genius is not a lazy angel con- 
templating itseK and things. It is insatiable for 
expression. Thought must take the stupendous 
step of passing into realization. A master can 
formulate his thought. Our thoughts at first pos- 
sess us. Later, if we have good heads, we come to 
possess them. 'We believe that certain persons 
add to the common ^-ision a certain degree of con- 
trol over these states of mind; that the true 
scholar is one who has the power to stand beside 
his thoughts or to hold off his thoughts at lU'm's 
length and give them perspective. 

It is not to be concealed that the gods have 
guarded this privilege with costly penalty. This 
slight discontinuity which perception effects be- 
tween the mind and the object paralyzes the will. 
If you cut or break in two a block or stone and 
press the two parts closely together, you can indeed 
bring the particles very near, but never again so 
near that thev shall attract each other so tliat ^'ou 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 41 

can take up the block as one. That indescribably 
small interval is as good as a thousand miles, and 
has forever severed the practical unity. Such is 
the immense deduction from power by disconti- 
nuity. 

The intellect that sees the interval partakes of 
it, and the fact of intellectual perception severs 
once for all the man from the things with which 
he converses. Affection blends, intellect disjoins 
subject and object. For weal or woe we clear our- 
selves from the thing we contemplate. We grieve 
but are not the grief ; we love but are not love. 
If we converse with low things, with crimes, with 
mischances, we are not compromised. And if with 
high things, with heroic actions, with virtues, the 
interval becomes a gulf and we cannot enter into 
the highest good. Artist natures do not weep. 
Goethe, the surpassing intellect of modern times, 
apprehends the spiritual but is not spiritual. 

There is indeed this vice about men of thought, 
that you cannot quite trust them ; not as much as 
other men of the same natural probity, without in- 
tellect ; because they have a hankering to play 
Providence and make a distinction in favor of 
themselves from the rules they apply to the hu- 
man race. 

The primary rule for the conduct of Intellect is 



42 NATUBAL HISTOBY OF INTELLECT. 

to have control of the thoughts without losing their 
natural attitudes and action. They are the ora- 
cle ; we are not to poke and drill and force, but to 
follow them. Yet the spirits of the prophets are 
subject to the prophets. You must formulate your 
thought or 't is all sky and no stars. There are 
men of great apprehension, discursive minds, who 
easily entertain ideas, but are not exact, severe 
with themselves, cannot connect or arrange their 
thoughts so as effectively to report them. A blend- 
ing of these two — the intellectual perception of 
truth and the moral sentiment of right — is wis- 
dom. All thought is practical. AYishing is one 
thing ; will another. Wishing is castle-building ; 
the dreaming about things agreeable to the senses, 
but to which we have no right. Will is the ad- 
vance to that w^hich rightly belongs to us, to which 
the inward magnet ever points, and which we dare 
to make ours. The revelation of thought takes us 
out of servitude into freedom. So does the sense 
of right. 

Will is the measure of power. To a great 
genius there must be a great will. If the thought 
is not a lamp to the will, does not proceed to an 
act, the wise are imbecile. He alone is strong and 
happy who has a will. The rest are herds. He 
uses ; they are used. He is of the Maker ; they 
are of the Made. 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 43 

Will is always miraculous, being the presence of 
God to men. When it appears in a man he is a 
hero, and all metaphysics are at fault. Heaven is 
the exercise of the faculties, the added sense of 
power. 

All men know the truth, but what of that ? It 
is rare to find one who knows how to speak it. A 
man tries to speak it and his voice is like the hiss 
of a snake, or rude and chiding. The truth is not 
spoken but injured. The same thing happens in 
power to do the right. His rectitude is ridiculous. 
His organs do not play him true. 

There is a meter which determines the construc- 
tive power of man, — this, namely, the question 
whether the mind possesses the control of its 
thoughts, or they of it. The new sect stands for 
certain thoughts. We go to individual members 
for an exposition of them. Vain expectation. 
They are possessed by the ideas but do not pos- 
sess them. One meets contemplative men who 
dwell in a certain feeling and delight which are 
intellectual but wholly above their expression. 
They cannot formulate. They impress those who 
know them by their loyalty to the truth they wor- 
ship but cannot impart. Sometimes the patience 
and love are rewarded by the chamber of power 
being at last opened ; but sometimes they pass 
away dumb, to find it where all obstruction is re- 
moved. 



44 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

By and by comes a facility ; some one that can 
move the mountain and build of it a causeway 
through the Dismal Swamp, as easily as he carries 
the hair on his head. Talent is habitual facility 
of execution. We like people who can do things. 
The various talents are organic, or each related 
to that part of nature it is to explore and utilize. 
Somewhat is to come to the light, and one was 
created to fetch it, — a vessel of honor or of dis- 
honor. 'T is of instant use in the economy of the 
Cosmos, and the more armed and biassed for the 
work the better. 

Each of these talents is born to be unfolded and 
set at work for the use and delight of men, and, in 
the last result, the man with the talent is the need 
of mankind ; the whole ponderous machinery of 
the state has really for its aim just to place this 
skill of each. 

But idea and execution are not often entrusted 
to the same head. There is some incompatibility 
of good speculation and practice, for example, the 
failure of monasteries and Brook Farms. To ham- 
mer out phalanxes must be done by smiths ; as soon 
as the scholar attempts it he is half a charlatan. 

The grasp is the main thing. Most men's 
minds do not grasp anything. All slips through 
their fingers, like the paltry brass grooves that in 
most country houses are used to raise or drop the 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 45 

curtain, but are made to sell, and will not hold 
any curtain but cobwebs. I have heard that idiot 
children are known from their birth by the cir- 
cumstance that their hands do not close round 
anything. Webster naturally and always grasps, 
and therefore retains something from every com- 
pany and circumstance. 

As a talent Dante's imagination is the nearest 
to hands and feet that we have seen. He clasps 
the thought as if it were a tree or a stone, and de- 
scribes as mathematically. I once found Page 
the painter modelling his figures in clay, Ruth and 
Naomi, before he painted them on canvas. Dante, 
one would say, did the same thing before he wrote 
the verses. 

I have spoken of Intellect constructive. But 
it is in degTces. How it moves when its pace is 
accelerated ! The pace of Nature is so slow. Why 
not from strength to strength, from miracle to 
miracle, and not as now with this retardation — as 
if Nature had sprained her foot — and plenteous 
stopping at little stations ? 

The difference is obvious enough in Talent be- 
tween the speed of one man's action above anoth- 
er's. In debate, in legislature, not less in action ; 
in war or in affairs, alike daring and effective. But 
I speak of it in quite another sense, namely, in the 
habitual speed of combination of thought. 



4l> XATUEAL HISTORY OF IXTELLECT. 

The same funorioiis whioli avo povfoor in our 
quadrupeds are seen slower performe<.l in pal:\Hni- 
tology. ^Nlany races it eosr them to achieve tlie 
completion that is now in the lite of one. Life 
had not yet so tieive a glow. 

Shakespeare astonishes by his equality in every 
play, act, scene or line. One woidd s;u" he must 
have beeu a thousand years old when he wrote his 
first line, so thorouglily is his thought familiar to 
him. and has such scope and so solidly worded, as 
if it were already a proverb aud not hereafter to 
become one. Well, that millenium in etYect is 
really only a little acceleration iu his process of 
thought. 

But each power is commonly at the expense of 
some other. When pace is inerea:ied it will happen 
tliat the control is in a degree lost. Keason dcves 
not keep her tirm seat. The Delphian prophetess, 
when the spirit possesses her, is herself a >-ietim. 
The excess of individualism, when it is not cor- 
rected or subordiuat<Hl to tlie Supreme Reason, 
makes that vice which we stigmatize as monotones, 
men of one idea, or, as the Fr^nich s:iy, infant 
perdu crune conviction isoI(:c, whicli give sucli a 
comic tiug:e to all society. Every man has his 
theory, true, but ridiculously oversfcittnl. '\\"e are 
forced to treat :i c t of mankind as if they 

were a little der.u>^.... We detect theii* uuuiia 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 47 

and humor it, so that conversation soon becomes a 
tiresome effort. 

You hiugh at the monotones, at the men of one 
idea, hut if wo look nearly at heroes we may find 
the same poverty ; and perhaps it is not poverty, 
hut power. The secret of power, intellectual or 
physical, is concentration, and all concentration 
involves of necessity a certain narrowness. It is a 
law of nature that he who looks at one thing must 
turn his eyes from every other thing in the uni- 
verse. The horse goes better with blinders, and 
the man for dedication to his task. If you ask 
what compensation is made for the inevitable nar- 
rowness, why, this, that in learning one thing w^ell 
you learn all things. 

Immense is the patience of Nature. You say 
thought is a penurious rill. Well, we can wait. 
Nature is immortal, and can wait. Nature having 
for capital this rill, drop by drop, as it trickles 
from the rock of ages, — this rill and her patience, 
— she husbands and hives, she forms reservoirs, 
were it only a phial or a hair-tube that will hold as 
it were a drop of attar. Not having enough to sup- 
port all the powers of a race, she thins her stock 
and raises a few individuals, or only a pair. Not 
sufficing to feed aU the faculties synchronously, 
she feeds one faculty and starves all the rest. I 
am familiar with cases, we meet them daily, 



48 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

wherein tlie vital force being insufficient for the 
constitution, everything is neglected that can be 
spared ; some one power fed, all the rest pine. 
'T is like a withered hand or leg on a Hercules. 
It makes inconvenience in society, for we presume 
symmetry, and because they know one thing we 
defer to them in another, and find them really 
contemptible. We can't make half a bow and say, 
I honor and despise you. But Nature can ; she 
whistles with all her winds, and does as she pleases. 

It is much to write sentences ; it is more to add 
method and write out the spirit of your life sym- 
metrically. But to arrange general reflections in 
their natural order, so that I shall have one homo- 
geneous piece, — a Lycidas, an Allegro, a Hamlet, 
a Midsummer Night's Dream, — this continuity is 
for the great. The wonderful men are wonderful 
hereby. Such concentration of experiences is in 
every great work, which, though successive in the 
mind of the master, were primarily combined in 
his piece. 

But what we want is consecutiveness. 'T is with 
us a flash of light, then a long darkness, then a 
flash again. Ah ! could we turn these fugitive 
sparkles into an astronomy of Copernican worlds. 

I must think this keen sympathy, this thrill 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 49 

of awe with which we watch the performance of 
genius, a sign of our own readiness to exert the 
like power. I must think we are entitled to pow- 
ers far transcending any that we possess ; that we 
have in the race the sketch of a man which no 
individual comes up to. 

Every sincere man is right, or, to make him 
right, only needs a little larger dose of his own per- 
sonality. Excellent in his own way by means of 
not apprehending the gift of another. When he 
speaks out of another's mind, we detect it. He 
can't make any paint stick but his own. No man 
passes for that with another which he passes for 
with himself. The respect and the censure of his 
brother are alike injurious and irrelevant. We 
see ourselves ; we lack organs to see others, and 
only squint at them. 

Don't fear to push these individualities to their 
farthest divergence. Characters and talents are 
complemental and suppletory. The world stands 
by balanced antagonisms. The more the peculiar- 
ities are pressed the better the result. The air 
would rot without lightning ; and without the vio- 
lence of direction that men have, without bigots, 
without men of fixed idea, no excitement, no effi- 
ciency. 

The novelist should not make any character act 
absurdly, but only absurdly as seen by others. 



50 NATURAL HISTOEY OF INTELLECT. 

For it is so in life. Nonsense will not keep its 
unreason if you come into the humorist's point 
of view, but unhappily we find it is fast becoming 
sense, and we must flee again into the distance if 
we would laugh. 

What strength belongs to every plant and ani- 
mal in nature. The tree or the brook has no 
duplicity, no pretentiousness, no show. It is, with 
all its might and main, what it is, and makes one 
and the same impression and effect at all times. 
All the thoughts of a turtle are turtles, and of 
a rabbit, rabbits. But a man is broken and dissi- 
pated by the giddiness of his will; he does not 
throw himself into his judgments ; his genius leads 
him one way but 't is likely his trade or politics 
in quite another. He rows with one hand and 
with the other backs water, and does not give to 
any manner of life the strength of his constitution. 
Hence the perpetual loss of power and waste of 
human life. 

The natural remedy against this miscellany of 
knowledge and aim, this desultory universality of 
ours, this immense ground- juniper falling abroad 
and not gathered up into any columnar tree, is to 
substitute realism for sentimentalism ; a certain 
recognition of the simple and terrible laws which, 
seen or unseen, pervade and govern. 

You will say this is quite axiomatic and a little 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 51 

too true. I do not find it an agreed point. Lit- 
erary men for the most part have a settled despair 
as to the realization of ideas in their own time. 
There is in all students a distrust of truth, a timid- 
ity about affirming it ; a wish to patronize Provi- 
dence. 

We disown our debt to moral evil. To science 
there is no poison ; to botany no weed ; to chemis- 
try no dirt. The curses of malignity and despair 
are important criticism, which must be heeded 
until he can explain and rightly silence them. 

^'Croyez moi, Verreur aussi a son merite^^^ said 
Voltaire. We see those who surmount by dint of 
egotism or infatuation obstacles from which the 
prudent recoil. The right partisan is a heady 
man, who, because he does not see many things, 
sees some one thing with heat and exaggeration ; 
and if he falls among other narrow men, or objects 
which have a brief importance, prefers it to the uni- 
verse, and seems inspired and a godsend to those 
who wish to magnify the matter and carry a point. 
'Tis the difference between progress by railroad 
and by walking across the broken country. Im- 
mense speed, but only in one direction. 

There are two theories of life ; one for the de- 
monstration of our talent, the other for the educa- 
tion of the man. One is activity, the busy-body, the 



62 NATUBAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

following of that practical talent which we have, in 
the belief that what is so natural, easy and pleasant 
to us and desirable to others will surely lead us out 
safel}^ ; in this direction lie usefulness, comfort, so- 
ciety, low power of all sorts. The other is trust, 
religion, consent to be nothing for eternity, en- 
tranced waiting, the worship of ideas. This is soli- 
tary, grand, secular. They are in perpetual bal- 
ance and strife. One is talent, the other genius. 
One is skill, the other character. 

We are continually tempted to sacrifice genius 
to talent, the hope and promise of insight to the 
lust of a freer demonstration of those gifts we 
have ; and we buy this freedom to glitter by the 
loss of general health. 

It is the levity of this country to forgive every- 
thing to talent. If a man show cleverness, rhetori- 
cal skill, bold front in the forum or the senate, 
people clap their hands without asking more. We 
have a juvenile love of smartness, of showy speech. 
We like faculty that can rapidly be coined into 
money, and society seems to be in conspiracy to 
utilize every gift prematurely, and pull down gen- 
ius to lucrative talent. Every kind of meanness 
and mischief is forgiven to intellect. All is con- 
doned if I can write a good song or novel. 

Wide is the gulf between genius and talent. 
The men we know, poets, wits, writers, deal with 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 63 

their thoughts as jewellers with jewels, which they 
sell but must not wear. Like the carpenter, who 
gives up the key of the fine house he has built, and 
never enters it again. 

There is a conflict between a man's private dex- 
terity or talent and his access to the free air and 
light which wisdom is ; between wisdom and the 
habit and necessity of repeating itself which be- 
longs to every mind. Peter is the mould into which 
everything is poured like warm wax, and be it as- 
tronomy or railroads or French revolution or the- 
ology or botany, it comes out Peter. But there 
are quick limits to our interest in the personality 
of people. They are as much alike as their barns 
and pantries, and are as soon musty and dreary. 
They entertain us for a time, but at the second or 
third encounter we have nothing more to learn. 

The daily history of the Intellect is this alter- 
nating of expansions and concentrations. The ex- 
pansions are the invitations from heaven to try a 
larger sweep, a higher pitch than we have yet 
climbed, and to leave all our past for this enlarged 
scope. Present power, on the other hand, requires 
concentration on the moment and the thing to be 
done. 

The condition of sanity is to respect the order 
of the intellectual world ; to keep down talent in 



54 NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 

its place, to enthrone the instinct. There must be 
perpetual rallying and self -recovery. Each talent 
is ambitious and self-asserting ; it works for show 
and for the shop, and the greater it grows the more 
is the mischief and the misleading, so that pres- 
ently all is wrong. 

No wonder the children love masks and cos- 
tumes, and play horse, play soldier, play school, 
play bear, and delight in theatricals. The children 
have only the instinct of the universe, in which 
becoming somewhat else is the perpetual game of 
nature, and death the penalty of standing still. 
'T is not less in thought. I cannot conceive any 
good in a thought which confines and stagnates. 
The universe exists only in transit, or we behold it 
shooting the gulf from the past to the future. We 
are passing into new heavens in fact by the move- 
ment of our solar system, and in thought by our 
better knowledge. Transition is the attitude of 
power. A fact is only a fulcrum of the spirit. It 
is the terminus of a past thought, but only a means 
now to new sallies of the imagination and new 
progress of wisdom. The habit of saliency, of not 
pausing but proceeding, is a sort of importation and 
domestication of the divine effort into a man. 
Routine, the rut, is the path of indolence, of cows, 
of sluggish animal life ; as near gravitation as it 



NATURAL HISTORY OF INTELLECT. 65 

can go. But wit sees the short way, puts together 
what belongs together, custom or no custom; in 
that is organization. 

Inspiration is the continuation of the divine ef- 
fort that built the man. The same course contin- 
ues itself in the mind which we have witnessed in 
nature, namely the carrying-on and completion of 
the metamorphosis from grub to worm, from worm 
to fly. In human thought this process is often ar- 
rested for years and ages. The history of man- 
kind is the history of arrested growth. This pre- 
mature stop, I know not how, befalls most of us 
in early youth ; as if the growth of high powers, 
the access to rare truths, closed at two or three 
years in the child, while all the pagan faculties 
went ripening on to sixty. 

So long as you are capable of advance, so long 
you have not abdicated the hope and future of a 
divine soul. That wonderful oracle will reply 
when it is consulted, and there is no history or 
tradition, no rule of life or art or science, on 
which it is not a competent and the only compe- 
tent judge. 

Man was made for conflict, not for rest. In 
action is his power; not in his goals but in his 
transitions man is great. Instantly he is dwarfed 
by self-indulgence. The truest state of mind rested 
in becomes false. 



56 XATUEAL HISTOEY OF IXTELLECT. 

The spiritual power of man is twofold, niiud and 
heart, Iiitelleot aiul morals : one respecting truth, 
the other the will. One is the man, the other the 
woman in spiritual nature. One is power, tlie 
other is love. These elements always coexist in 
every normal individual, but one predominates. 
And as each is easilv exalted in our thouirhts till 
it serves to till the univei*se and become the syno- 
nym of God, the soul in which one predominates 
is ever watchful and jealous when such inuneuse 
claims are made for one as seem injurious to the 
other. Ideal and practical, like ecliptic and equa- 
tor, ai-e never parallel. Each has its vices, its 
proper dangers, obvious enough when the opposite 
element is deticient. 

Intellect is skeptical, runs down into talent, self- 
ish working for private ends, conceited, osteut^i- 
tious and malignant. On the other side the clear- 
headed thinker complains of souls led hither and 
thither by atfections which, alone, are blind guides 
and thriftless workmen, and in the confusion asks 
the polarity of intellect. But all givat minds and 
all great liearts have mutually allowed the absolute 
necessity of the twain. 

If the first rule is to obey your genius, in the 
second place the g\x>d mind is knoNm by the choice 
of what is positive, of what is advancing. AVe must 
embrace the aiHrmative. But the affirmative of 



NATURAL HISTOliY OF INTELLECT. 67 

affirmatives is love. Qiufutus amor tantus ani- 
mus. Sti'oiigtli enters as the moral clement enters. 
Lovers of men are as safe as the sun. Goodwill 
makes insight. Sensibility is the secret readiness 
to believe in all kinds of power, and the contempt 
of any experience we have not is the opposite pole. 
The measure of mental health is the disposition to 
find good everywhere, good and order, analogy, 
heiilth and benefit, — the love of truth, tendency to 
be in the right, no lighter for victory, no cockerel. 

We have all of us by nature a certain divination 
and parturient vaticination in our minds of some 
higher good and perfection than either power or 
knowledge. Knowledge is plainly to be preferred 
before power, as being that which guides and di- 
rects its blind force and impetus ; but Aristotle 
declares that the origin of reason is not reason 
but something better. 

The height of culture, the highest behavior, con- 
sists in the identification of the Ego with the uni- 
verse ; so that when a man says I hope, I find, 
I think, he might properly say, The human race 
thinks or finds or hopes. And meantime he shall 
be able continually to keep sight of his biograph- 
ical Ego, — I have a desk, I have an office, I am 
hungry, I had an ague, — as rhetoric or offset to 
bis grand spiritual Ego, without impertinence, or 
ever confounding them. 



5S yATrKAL HlSTOl^Y OF lyiEJLLllCT. 

1 may Nvell say this is diviuo, the eontinuatiou of 
the divine et^'ort. Alas I it seems not to W out's, 
to be quite independent of us. Otteu there is so 
little at^inity between the man and his works that 
we think the wind must have writ them. Also its 
oommunieation from one to another follows its own 
law and refuses our intrusion. It is in one, it be- 
longs to all ; yet how to impiirt it ? 

We neeil all our ivsomves to live in the world 
whieh is to be useil and dei'orated by us. Soerates 
kept all his virtues as well as his faeulties well in 
hand, lie was sineei*ely humble, but he utilized 
his humanity ehietly as a better eyeglass to pene- 
ti*ate the vapors that biiiHed the vision of otlier 



The superiority of the man is in the simplieity 
of his thought, that he has no obstruetion, but kx^ks 
sti*aight at the pure faet, with no eolor of option. 
Pi*ofound siueerity is the only basis of talent as of 
ehameter. The virtue of the Intellect is its own, 
its eourage is of its own kind, and at last it will be 
jiistiiieil, though for the moment it seem hostile to 
what it most ivveres. 

We wish to sum up the oonliieting impressions 
by siiying that all point at last to a unity whieh in- 
spires all. Our poetry, our ivligion arx^ its skirts 



NATl'liAl. lllSTOm' OF IXTELLECT. 59 

and peiumibnv. Yot the oliariu of life is the liints 
we derive from this. They overtx)me us like per- 
fumes from a far-off shore of sweetness, and their 
meaning- is that no tongue shall syllable it without 
leave ; that only itself ean name it ; that l>y east- 
ing ourselves on it and being its voice it rushes 
eaeh moment to positive eonnnands, creating men 
and methods, and ties the will of a child to the 
love of the First Cause. 



MEMORY. 



MEMORY. 



Memory is a primary and fundamental faculty, 
without which none other can work ; the cement, 
the bitumen, the matrix in which the other facul- 
ties are imbedded ; or it is the thread on which the 
beads of man are strung, making the personal 
identity which is necessary to moral action. With- 
out it all life and thought were an unrelated suc- 
cession. As gravity holds matter from flying off 
into space, so memory gives stability to knowledge ; 
it is the cohesion which keeps things from falling 
into a lump, or flowing in waves. 

We like longevity, we like signs of riches and 
extent of nature in an individual. And most of all 
we like a great memory. The lowest life remem- 
bers. The sparrow, the ant, the worm, have the 
same memory as we. If you bar their path, or 
offer them somewhat disagreeable to their senses, 
they make one or two trials, and then once for all 
avoid it. 

Every machine must be perfect of its sort. It 
is essential to a locomotive that it can reverse its 



64 yiFMOKY. 

niovomont, aiul run barkwanl ami forward with 
Oiiual coloritv. The biiililor o{ tho uuud found it 
nv>t loss noodfiil that it should have ivti\>jvctioii, 
and oouiuiaud its past aot and dood. IVivoption, 
thi>ui;h it woro iu\u\onso and oould pioivo through 
tho univorso, was not sutVu'iont. 

Mi^niory performs tiio iuipossiblo for man by tho 
strongth of his divine arms : holds together past 
and present, beholding both, existing in both, 
abides in the iUnving, and gives i'ontinuity and 
dignity to Inunan life. It holds us to our family, 
to our friends. Hereby a home is possible : hereby 
iMily a new faet has value. 

Opportunities of investntent are useful only to 
those who have eapital. Any pieee of knowledgv 
I ae<\uire i*.Mlay. a faet that falls under n\y eyes, a 
book I read, a pieee of news 1 hear, has a value at 
this moment exaetly pivportioned to my skill to 
deal with it. To-monvw, when 1 know moiv, I 
iveall that pieee of knowledge auvl use it better. 

The Fast has a new value every moment to the 
aetive n\ind, through the ineessant puritiOiUion and 
bettor metluxl of it^ memory. Onee it joined its 
faets by eolor and form and sensuous ivlatious. 
Some faet that had a ehildish signitieanee to your 
ehildhooil and was a type in the nursery, when 
ri^vr intelligeuee ivealls it means moiv and serves 
you better as an illustratioi\ : and perhaps in your 



MKMOUY. 66 

age h.'iH now iiK^sining. What was an isolated, un- 
related belief or (;onj(!etuie, our later (ixporionco 
instruets us liow to pbuje in just eonncction with 
other views wliich eoniirni and expand it. '^Flie old 
whim or perccipiion was jin augury of a bro.'ulei- In- 
siglit, at wliieli we arrive Liter witli scujurer eonvie- 
tion. Tliis Is tlio (companion, this the tutor, th(5 
])0(it, tlie library, with whieli you ti-av(!l. ltdo(!S not 
lie, eannot be (joirupted, repoits to you not what 
you wish but wliat really bofel. You s.-iy, " I (%'in 
never thiidc of some act of negleet, of HeHlshnciSs, 
or of ])assion without ])ain." Well, that is as 
it should be. That is tlie j)olie(5 of the Universe : 
the ang(^]s are set to punisli you, so long as you 
are cai)able of such crime. But in the history of 
chara(;t(!r the day eoni(;s wh(;n you are ineapal)l(; 
of sueh crime. Then you surf<;r no mon;, you look 
on it as heaven looks on it, with wonder at th(j 
deed, and with applause at the pain it has cost you. 
Memory is not Ji po(;ket, but a living instructor, 
with a prophetic sense of the values wlii(di lie 
guards ; a guardian angel set there within you to 
record your life, and by recording to animate you 
to uplift it. It is a S(;ripture writt(;n day by day 
from the birth of the man ; all its records full of 
meanings which open as he lives on, exjdaining 
each other, exjdaining the world to him and ex- 
panding their sense as Ik; adva,nc(;s, until it sliall 
become the whole law of nature and life. 



66 MEMORY. 

As every creature is furnished with teeth to seize 
and eat, and with stomach to digest its food, so the 
memory is furnished with a perfect apparatus. 
There is no book like the memory, none with such 
a good index, and that of every kind, alpha- 
betic, systematic, arranged by names of persons, 
by colors, tastes, smells, shapes, likeness, unlike- 
ness, by all sorts of mysterious hooks and eyes to 
catch and hold, and contrivances for giving a hint. 

The memory collects and re-collects. AVe figiire 
it as if the mind were a kind of looking-glass, 
which being carried through the street of time re- 
ceives on its clear plate every image that passes ; 
only with this difference that our plate is iodized 
so that every image sinks into it, and is held there. 
But in addition to this property it has one more, 
this, namely, that of all the million images that are 
imprinted, the very one we want reappears in the 
centre of the plate in the moment when we want it. 

We can tell much about it, but you must not 
ask us what it is. On seeing a face I am aware 
that I have seen it before, or that I have not seen 
\t before. On hearing a fact told I am aware that 
I knew it already. You say the first words of the 
old song, and I finish the line and the stanza. But 
where I have them, or what becomes of them when 
I am not thinking of them for months and years, 
that they should lie so still, as if they did not 



MEMORY. 67 

exist, and yet so nigh tliat they come on the in- 
stant when they are called for, never any man was 
so sharp-sighted, or could turn himself inside out 
quick enough to find. 

'T is because of the believed incompatibility of 
tlie affirmative and advancing attitude of the mind 
with tenacious acts of recollection that people are 
often reproached with living in their memory. 
Late in life we live by memory, and in our solstices 
or periods of stagnation ; as the starved camel in 
the desert lives on his humps. Memory was called 
by the schoolmen ■vespertlna cognitio^ evening 
knowledge, in distinction from the command of 
the future which we have by the knowledge of 
causes, and which they called matutma cognitio, 
or morning knowledge. 

Am I asked whether the thoughts clothe them- 
selves in words ? I answer. Yes, always ; but they 
are apt to be instantly forgotten. Never was truer 
fable than that of the Sibyl's writing on leaves which 
the wind scatters. The dift'erence between men is 
that in one the memory with inconceivable swift- 
ness flies after and re-collects the flying leaves, — 
flies on wing as fast as that mysterious whirlwind, 
and the envious Fate is battled. 

This command of old facts, the clear beholding 
at will of what is best in our experience, is our 
splendid privilege. " He who calls what is van- 



68 MEMORY. 

ished back again into being enjoys a bliss like that 
of creating," says Niebuhr. The memory plays a 
great part in settling the intellectual rank of men* 
We estimate a man by how much he remembers. 
A seneschal of Parnassus is Mnemosyne. This 
power will alone make a man remarkable ; and it 
is found in all good wits. Therefore the poets 
represented the Muses as the daughters of Memory, 
for the power exists in some marked and eminent 
degree in men of an ideal determination. Quin- 
tilian reckoned it the measure of genius. " Tantum 
ingenii quantum memoriae." 

We are told that Boileau having recited to 
Daguesseau one day an epistle or satire he had 
just been composing, Daguesseau tranquilly told 
him he knew it already, and in proof set himself 
to recite it from end to end. Boileau, astonished, 
was much distressed until he perceived that it was 
only a feat of memory. 

The mind disposes all its experience after its 
aifection and to its ruling end ; one man by puns 
and one by cause and effect, one to heroic benefit 
and one to wrath and animal desire. This is the 
high difference, the quality of the association by 
which a man remembers. In the minds of most 
men memory is nothing but a farm-book or a 
pocket-diary. On such a day I paid my note ; on 
the next day the cow calved ; on the next I cut my 



MEMORY. 69 

finger ; on the next the banks suspended payment. 
But another man's memory is the history of science 
and art and civility and thought ; and still another 
deals with laws and perceptions that are the theory 
of the world. 

This thread or order of remembering, this classi- 
fication, distributes men, one remembering by shop- 
rule or interest ; one by passion ; one by trifling 
external marks, as dress or money. And one rarely 
takes an interest in how the facts really stand, in 
the order of cause and effect, without self-refer- 
ence. This is an intellectual man. Nature inter- 
ests him ; a plant, a fish, time, space, mind, being, 
in their own method and law. Napoleon was such, 
and that saves him. 

But this mysterious power that binds our life 
together has its own vagaries and interruptions. 
It sometimes occurs that memory has a personality 
of its own, and volunteers or refuses its informa- 
tions at its will, not at mine. One sometimes asks 
himself, Is it possible that it is only a visitor, not 
a resident ? Is it some old aunt who goes in and 
out of the house, and occasionally recites anecdotes 
of old times and persons which I recognize as hav- 
ing heard before, and she being gone again I 
search in vain for any trace of the anecdotes ? 

We can help ourselves to the modus of mental 
processes only by coarse material experiences. A 



70 MEMORY. 

knife with a good spring, a forceps whose lips 
accurately meet and match, a steel-trap, a loom, a 
watch, the teeth or jaws of which fit and play per- 
fectly, as compared with the same tools when badly 
put together, describe to us the difference between 
a person of quick and strong perception, like Frank- 
lin or Swift or Webster or Richard Owen, and a 
heavy man who witnesses the same facts or shares 
experiences like theirs. 'Tis like the impression 
made by the same stamp in sand or in wax. The 
way in which Burke or Sheridan or Webster or 
any orator surprises us is by his always having a 
sharp tool that fits the present use. He has an 
old story, an odd circumstance, that illustrates the 
point he is now proving, and is better than an argu- 
ment. The more he is heated, the wider he sees ; 
he seems to remember all he ever knew ; thus cer- 
tifying us that he is in the habit of seeing better 
than other people ; that what his mind grasps it 
does not let go. 'T is the bull-dog bite ; you must 
cut off the head to loosen the teeth. 

We hate this fatal shortness of Memory, these 
docked men whom we behold. We gathered up 
what a rolling snow-ball as we came idong, — much 
of it professedly for the future, as capital stock of 
knowledge. Where is it now ? Look behind you. 
I cannot see that your train is any longer than it 
was in childhood. The facts of the last two or 



MEMORY. 71 

three (lays or weeks are all you have with you, — 
the reading of the last month's books. Your eori- 
versation, action, your face and manners report of 
no more, of no greater wealth of mind. Alas! 
you have lost something for everything you have 
gained, and cannot grow. Only so much iron will 
the load-stone draw ; it gains new particles all the 
way as you move it, but one falls off for every one 
that adheres. 

As there is strength in the wild horse which is 
never regained when he is once broken by training, 
and as there is a sound sleep of children and of 
savages, profound as the hibernation of bears, 
which never visits the eyes of civil gentlemen and 
ladies, so there is a wild memory in children and 
youth which makes what is early learned impossi- 
ble to forget ; and perhaps in the beginning of the 
world it had most vigor. Plato deplores writing 
as a barbarous invention which would weaken the 
memory by disuse. The Rhapsodists in Athens it 
seems could recite at once any passage of Homer 
that was desired. 

If writing weakens the memoiy, we may say as 
much and more of printing. What is tlie news- 
paper but a sponge or invention for oblivion ? the 
i-ule being that for every fact added to the mem- 
ory, one is crowded out, and that only what the 
affection animates can be remembered. 



72 MEMORY. 

The mind has a better secret in generalization 
than merely adding units to its list of facts. The 
reason of the short memory is shallow thought. As 
deep as the thought, so great is the attraction. An 
act of the understanding will marshal and concate- 
nate a few facts ; a principle of the reason will 
thrill and magnetize and redistribute the whole 
world. 

But defect of memory is not always want of 
genius. By no means. It is sometimes owing to 
excellence of genius. Thus men of great presence 
of mind who are always equal to the occasion do 
not need to rely on what they have stored for use, 
but can think in this moment as well and deeply 
as in any past moment, and if they cannot remem- 
ber the rule they can make one. Indeed it is 
remarked that inventive men have bad memories. 
Sir Isaac Newton was embarrassed when the con- 
versation turned on his discoveries and results ; he 
could not recall them ; but if he was asked why 
things were so or so he could find the reason on 
the spot. 

A man would think twice about learning a new 
science or reading a new paragraph, if he believed 
the magnetism was only a constant amount, and 
that he lost a word or a thought for every word he 
gained. But the experience is not quite so bad. 
In reading a foreign language, every new word 



MEMORY. 73 

mastered is a lamp lighting up related words and 
so assisting tlie memory. Apprehension of the 
whole sentence aids to fix the precise meaning of a 
particular word, and what familiarity has been ac- 
quired with the genius of the language and the 
writer helps in fixing the exact meaning of the 
sentence. So is it with every fact in a new science : 
they are mutually explaining, and each one adds 
transparency to the whole mass. 

The damages of forgetting are more than com- 
pensated by the large values which new thoughts 
and knowledge give to what we already know. If 
new impressions sometimes efface old ones, yet we 
steadily gain insight ; and because all nature has 
one law and meaning, — part corresponding to 
part, — all we have known aids us continually to 
the knowledge of the rest of nature. Thus, all 
the facts in this chest of memory are property at 
interest. And who shall set a boundary to this 
mounting value? Shall we not on higher stages 
of being remember and understand our early his- 
tory better ? 

They say in Architecture, " An arch never 
sleeps ; " I say, the Past will not sleep, it works 
still. With every new fact a ray of light shoots 
up from the long buried years. Who can judge 
the new book? He who has read many books. 
Who, the new assertion ? He who has heard many 



74 MEMORY. 

the like. Who, the new man ? He that has seen 
men. The experienced and cultivated man is 
lodged in a hall hung with pictures which every 
new day retouches, and to which every step in the 
march of the soul adds a more sublime perspec- 
tive. 

We learn early that there is great disparity of 
value between our experiences; some thoughts 
perish in the using. Some days are bright with 
thought and sentiment, and we live a year in a 
day. Yet these best days are not always those 
which memory can retain. This water once spilled 
cannot be gathered. There are more inventions 
in the thoughts of one happy day than ages could 
execute, and I suppose I speak the sense of most 
thoughtful men when I say, I would rather have 
a perfect recollection of all I have thought and 
felt in a day or a week of high activity than read 
all the books that have been published in a cen- 
tury. 

The memory is one of the compensations which 
Nature gTants to those who have used their days 
well ; when age and calamity have bereaved them 
of their limbs or organs, then they retreat on men- 
tal faculty and concentrate on that. The poet, the 
philosopher, lamed, old, blind, sick, yet disputing 
the ground inch by inch against fortune, finds a 
strength against the wrecks and decays sometimes 



MEMORY. 75 

more invulnerable than the heyday of youth and 
talent. 

I value the praise of Memory. And how does 
Memory praise? By holding fast the best. A 
thought takes its true rank in the memory by sur- 
viving other thoughts that were once preferred. 
Plato remembered Anaxagoras by one of his say- 
ings. If we recall our own favorites we shall usu- 
ally find that it is for one crowning act or thought 
that we hold them dear. 

Have you not found memory an apotheosis or 
deification ? The poor, short lone fact dies at the 
birth. Memory catches it up into her heaven, 
and bathes it in immortal waters. Then a thou- 
sand times over it lives and acts again, each time 
transfigured, ennobled. In solitude, in darkness, 
we tread over again the sunny walks of youth; 
confined now in populous streets you behold again 
the green fields, the shadows of the gray birches ; 
by the solitary river hear again the joyful voices 
of early companions, and vibrate anew to the ten- 
derness and dainty music of the poetry your boy- 
hood fed upon. At this hour the stream is still 
flowing, though you hear it not ; the plants are 
still drinking their accustomed life and repaying 
it with their beautiful forms. But you need not 
wander thither. It flows for you, and they grow 
for you, in the returning images of former sum- 



76 MEMORY. 

mers. In low or bad company you fold yourself in 
your cloak, withdraw yourself entirely from all the 
doleful circumstance, recall and surround yourself 
with the best associates and the fairest hours of 
your life : — 

" Passing sweet are the domains of tender memory." 

You may perish out of your senses, but not out of 
your memory or imagination. 

The memory has a fine art of sifting out the 
pain and keeping all the joy. The spring days 
when the bluebird arrives have usually only few 
hours of fine temperature, are sour and unlovely ; 
but when late in autumn we hear rarely a blue- 
bird's notes they are sweet by reminding us of the 
spring. Well, it is so with other tricks of memory. 
Of the most romantic fact the memory is more ro- 
mantic ; and this power of sinking the pain of any 
experience and of recalling the saddest with tran- 
quillity, and even with a wise pleasure, is familiar. 
The memory is as the affection. Sampson Reed 
says, " The true way to store the memory is to 
develop the affections." A souvenir is a token of 
love. Remember me means, Do not cease to love 
me. We remember those things which we love 
and those things which we hate. The memory of 
all men is robust on the subject of a debt due to 
them, or of an insult inflicted on them. " They 



MEMORY. 77 

can remember," as Johnson said, " who kicked 
them last." 

Every artist is alive on the subject of his art. 
The Persians say, " A real singer will never forget 
the song he has once learned." Michael Angelo, 
after having once seen a work of any other artist, 
would remember it so perfectly that if it pleased 
him to make use of any portion thereof, he could 
do so, but in such a manner that none could per- 
ceive it. 

We remember what we understand, and we 
understand best what we like ; for this doubles 
our power of attention, and makes it our own. 
Captain John Brown, of Ossawatomie, said he had 
in Ohio three thousand sheep on his farm, and 
could tell a strange sheep in his flock as soon as he 
saw its face. One of my neighbors, a grazier, told 
me that he should know again every cow, ox, or 
steer that he ever saw. Abel Lawton knew every 
horse that went up and down through Concord to 
the towns in the county. And in higher examples 
each man's memory is in the line of his action. 

Nature trains us on to see illusions and prodi- 
gies with no more wonder than our toast and ome- 
let at breakfast. Talk of memory and cite me 
these fine examples of Grotius and Daguesseau, 
and I think how awful is that power and what 
privilege and tyranny it must confer. Then I 



78 MEMOBT. 

come to a bright school-girl who remembers all she 
hears, carries thousands of nursery rhymes and all 
the poetry in all the readers, hymn-books, and pic- 
torial ballads in her mind ; and 't is a mere drug. 
She carries it so carelessly, it seems like the pro- 
fusion of hair on the shock heads of all the village 
boys and village dogs ; it grows like grass. 'T is 
a bushel-basket memory of all unchosen knowledge, 
heaped together in a huge hamper, without method, 
yet securely held, and ready to come at call; so 
that an old scholar, who knows what to do with a 
memory, is full of wonder and pity that this magi- 
cal force should be squandered on such frippery. 

He is a skilful doctor who can give me a recipe 
for the cure of a bad memory. And yet we have 
some hints from experience on this subject. And 
first, health. It is found that we remember best 
when the head is clear, when we are thoroughly 
awake. When the body is in a quiescent state in 
the absence of the passions, in the moderation of 
food, it yields itseK a willing medium to the intel- 
lect. For the true river Lethe is the body of man, 
with its belly and uproar of appetite and moun- 
tains of indigestion and bad humors and quality of 
darkness. And for this reason, and observing some 
mysterious continuity of mental operation during 
sleep or when our will is suspended, 't is an old 
rule of scholars, that which Fidler records, " 'T is 



MEMORY. 79 

best knocking in the nail overnight and clinching 
it next morning." Only I should give extension 
to this rule and say Yes, drive the nail this week 
and clinch it the next, and drive it this year and 
clinch it the next. 

But Fate also is an artist. We forget also 
according to beautiful laws. Thoreau said, " Of 
what significance are the things you can forget. 
A little thought is sexton to all the world." 

We must be severe with ourselves, and what we 
wish to keep we must once thoroughly possess. 
Then the thing seen will no longer be what it was, 
a mere sensuous object before the eye or ear, but a 
reminder of its law, a possession for the intellect. 
Then we relieve ourselves of all task in the matter, 
we put the 07ius of being remembered on the ob- 
ject, instead of on our will. We shall do as we do 
with all our studies, prize the fact or the name of 
the person by that predominance it takes in our 
mind after near acquaintance. I have several times 
forgotten the name of Flamsteed, never that of 
Newton ; and can drop easily many poets out of the 
Elizabethan chronology, but not Shakespeare. 

We forget rapidly what should be forgotten. 
The universal sense of fables and anecdotes is 
marked by our tendency to forget name and date 
and geography. " How in the right are children," 
said Margaret Fuller, " to forget name and date 
and place." 



80 MEMORY. 

You cannot overstate our debt to the past, but 
has the present no claim ? This past memory is 
the baggage, but where is the troop ? The divine 
ffift is not the old but the new. The divine is the 
instant life that receives and uses, the life that can 
well bury the old in the omnipotency with which it 
makes all things new. 

The acceleration of mental process is equivalent 
to the lengthening of life. If a great many 
thoughts pass through your mind you will believe 
a long time has elapsed, many hours or days. In 
dreams a rush of many thoughts, of seeming expe- 
riences, of spending hours and going through a 
great variety of actions and companies, and when 
we start up and look at the watch, instead of a long 
night we are surprised to find it was a short nap. 
The opium-eater says, " I sometimes seemed to have 
lived seventy or a hundred years in one night." 
You know what is told of the experience of some 
persons who have been recovered from drowning. 
They relate that their whole life's history seemed 
to pass before them in review. They remembered 
in a moment all that they ever did. 

If we occupy ourselves long on this wonderful 
faculty, and see the natural helps of it in the mind, 
and the way in which new knowledge caUs upon old 
knowledge — new giving undreamed-of value to old ; 
everywhere relation and suggestion, so that what 



MEMORY. 81 

one had painfully held by strained attention and 
recapitulation now falls into place and is clamped 
and locked by inevitable connection as a planet in 
its orbit (every other orb, or the law or system of 
which it is a part, being a perpetual reminder), — 
we cannot fail to draw thence a sublime hint that 
thus there must be an endless increase in the power 
of memory only through its use ; that there must 
be a proportion between the power of memory and 
the amount of knowables ; and since the Universe 
opens to us, the reach of the memory must be as 
large. 

With every broader generalization which the 
mind makes, with every deeper insight, its retro- 
spect is also wider. With every new insight into 
the duty or fact of to-day we come into new posses- 
sion of the past. 

When we live by principles instead of traditions, 
by obedience to the law of the mind instead of by 
passion, the Great Mind will enter into us, not as 
now in fragments and detached thoughts, but the 
light of to-day will shine backward and forward. 

Memory is a presumption of a possession of the 
future. Now we are halves, we see the past but 
not the future, but in that day will the hemisphere 
complete itself and foresight be as perfect as after- 
sight. 



BOSTON. 



" We are citizens of two fair cities/' said the Genoese 
gentleman to a Florentine artist, " and if I were not a 
Genoese, I should wish to be Florentine." "And I," 
replied the artist, " if I were not Florentine " — " You 
would wish to be Genoese," said the other. " No," re- 
plied the artist, " I should wish to be Florentine." 



The rocky nook with hill-tops three 
Looked eastward from the farms, 

And twice each day the flowing sea 
Took Boston in its arms. 

The sea returning day by day 
Restores the world-wide mart ; 

So let each dweller on the Bay 
Fold Boston in his heart. 

Let the blood of her hundred thousands 

Throb in each manly vein, 
And the wits of all her wisest 

Make sunshine in her brain. 

And each shall care for other. 
And each to each shall bend, 

To the poor a noble brother. 
To the good an equal friend. 

A blessing through the ages thus 
Shield all thy roofs and towers ! 

God with the fathers, so with us, 
Thou darling town of ours ! 



BOSTON. 



The old physiologists said, " There is in the air 
a hidden food of life ; " and they watched the effect 
of different climates. They believed the air of 
mountains and the seashore a potent predisposer 
to rebellion. The air was a good republican, and 
it was remarked that insulary people are versatile 
and addicted to change, both in religious and secu- 
lar affairs. 

The air that we breathe is an exhalation of all 
the solid material globe. An aerial fluid streams 
all day, all night, from every flower and leaf, from 
every water and soil, from every rock-ledge ; and 
from every stratum a different aroma and air ac- 
cording to its quality. According to quality and 
according to temperature, it must have effect on 
manners. 

There is the climate of the Sahara : a climate 
where the sunbeams are vertical ; where is day af- 
ter day, sunstroke after sunstroke, with a frosty 
shadow between. "There are countries," said 



86 BOSTON. 

Howell, " where the heaven is a fiery furnace, or 
a blowing bellows, or a dropping sponge, most 
parts of the year." Such is the assimilating force 
of the Indian climate, that. Sir Erskine Perry 
says, " the usage and opinion of the Hindoos so in- 
vades men of all castes and colors who deal with 
them that all take a Hindoo tint. Parsee, Mongol, 
Afghan, Israelite, Christian, have all passed under 
this influence and exchanged a good part of their 
patrimony of ideas for the notions, manner of see- 
ing, and habitual tone of Indian society." He 
compares it to the geologic phenomenon which the 
black soil of the Dhakkan offers, — the property, 
namely, of assimilating to itself every foreign sub- 
stance introduced into its bosom. 

How can we not believe in influences of climate 
and air, when, as true philosophers, we must be- 
lieve that chemical atoms also have their spiritual 
cause why they are thus and not other ; that car- 
bon, oxygen, alum and iron, each has its origin in 
spiritual nature ? 

Even at this day men are to be found supersti- 
tious enough to believe that to certain spots on the 
surface of the planet special powers attach, and an 
exalted influence on the genius of man. And it 
appears as if some localities of the earth, through 
wholesome springs, or as the habitat of rare plants 
and minerals, or through ravishing beauties of Na- 



BOSTON. 87 

ture, were preferred before others. There is great 
testimony of discriminating persons to the effect 
that Rome is endowed with the enchanting prop- 
erty of inspiring a longing in men there to live and 
there to die. 

Who lives one year in Boston ranges through 
all the climates of the globe. And if the character 
of the people has a larger range and greater versa- 
tility, causing them to exhibit equal dexterity in 
what are elsewhere reckoned incompatible works, 
perhaps they may thank their climate of extremes, 
which at one season gives them the splendor of the 
equator and a touch of Syria, and then runs down 
to a cold which approaches the temperature of the 
celestial spaces. 

It is not a country of luxury or of pictures ; of 
snows rather, of east-winds and changing skies ; 
visited by icebergs, which, floating by, nip with 
their cool breath our blossoms. Not a luxurious 
climate, but wisdom is not found with those who 
dwell at their ease. Give me a climate where peo- 
ple think well and construct well, — I will spend 
six months there, and you may have all the rest of 
my years. 

What Vasari says, three hundred years ago, of 
the republican city of Florence might be said of 
Boston ; " that the desire for glory and honor is 



88 BOSTON. 

powerfully generated by the air of that place, in 
the men of every profession ; whereby all who pos- 
sess talent are impelled to struggle that they may 
not remain in the same grade with those whom they 
perceive to be only men like themselves, even 
though they may acknowledge such indeed to be 
masters ; but all labor by every means to be fore- 
most." 

We find no less stimulus in our native air ; not 
less ambition in our blood, which Puritanism has 
not sufficiently chastised ; and at least an equal 
freedom in our laws and customs, with as many 
and as tempting rewards to toil ; with so many phi- 
lanthropies, humanities, charities, soliciting us to 
be great and good. 

New England is a sort of Scotland. 'T is hard 
to say why. Climate is much ; then, old accumu- 
lation of the means, — books, schools, colleges, lit- 
erary society ; — as New Bedford is not nearer to 
the whales than New London or Portland, yet they 
have all the equipments for a whaler ready, and 
they hug an oil-cask like a brother. 

I do not know that Charles River or Merrimac 
water is more clarifying to the brain than the Sa- 
vannah or Alabama rivers, yet the men that drink 
it get up earlier, and some of the morning light 
lasts through the day. I notice that they who 
drink for some little time of the Potomac water 



BOSTON. 89 

lose their relish for the water of the Charles River, 
of the Merrimac and the Connecticut, — even of 
the Hudson. I think the Potomac water is a little 
acrid, and should be corrected by copious infusions 
of these provincial streams. 

Of great cities you cannot compute the influ- 
ences. In New York, in Montreal, New Orleans 
and the farthest colonies, — in Guiana, in Guada- 
loupe, — a middle-aged gentleman is just embarking 
with all his property to fulfil the dream of his life 
and spend his old age in Paris ; so that a fortune 
falls into the massive wealth of that city every day 
in the year. Astronomers come because there they 
can find aj)paratus and companions. Chemist, ge- 
ologist, artist, musician, dancer, because there only 
are grandees and their patronage, appreciators and 
patrons. Demand and supply run into every invis- 
ible and unnamed province of whim and passion. 

Each great city gathers these values and de- 
lights for mankind, and comes to be the brag of its 
age and population. The Greeks thought him un- 
happy who died without seeing the statue of Jove 
at Olympia. With still more reason, they praised 
Athens, the " Violet City." It was said of Rome 
in its proudest days, looking at the vast radiation 
of the privilege of Roman citizenship through the 
then-known world, — " the extent of the city and 
of the world is the same " (^spatlum et urhls et 



90 BOSTON. 

orhis idem). London now for a thousand years 
has been in an affirmative or energizing mood ; has 
not stopped growing. Linnaeus, like a naturalist, 
esteeming the globe a big egg, called London the 
punctum saliens in the yolk of the world. 

This town of Boston has a history. It is not an 
accident, not a windmill, or a railroad station, or 
cross-roads tavern, or an army-barracks grown up 
by time and luck to a place of wealth ; but a seat 
of humanity, of men of principle, obeying a senti- 
ment and marching loyally whither that should 
lead them ; so that its annals are great historical 
lines, inextricably national ; part of the history of 
political liberty. I do not speak with any fond- 
ness, but the language of coldest history, when I 
say that Boston commands attention as the town 
which was appointed in the destiny of nations to 
lead the civilization of North America. 

A capital fact distinguishing this colony from all 
other colonies was that the persons composing it 
consented to come on the one condition that the 
charter should be transferred from the company in 
England to themselves; and so they brought the 
government with them. 

On the 3d of November, 1620, King James in- 
corporated forty of his subjects. Sir F. Gorges and 
others, the council established at Plymouth in the 



BOSTON. 91 

county of Devon for the planting, ruling, ordering 
and governing of New England in America. The 
territory — conferred on the patentees in absolute 
property, with unlimited jurisdiction, the sole 
power of legislation, the appointment of all officers 
and all forms of government — extended from the 
40th to the 48th degree of north latitude, and in 
length from the Atlantic to the Pacific. 

John Smith writes (1624) : " Of all the four 
parts of the world that I have yet seen not inhab- 
ited, could I but have means to transplant a colony, 
I would rather live here than anywhere ; and if it 
did not maintain itself, were we but once indiffer- 
ently well fitted, let us starve. Here are many 
isles planted with corn, groves, mulberries, salvage 
gardens and good harbours. The sea-coast as you 
pass shows you all along large cornfields and great 
troops of well-proportioned people." Massachusetts 
in particular, he calls " the paradise of these parts," 
notices its high mountain, and its river, " which doth 
pierce many days' journey into the entrails of that 
country." Morton arrived in 1622, in June, beheld 
the country, and " the more he looked, the more he 
liked it." 

In sixty-eight years after the foundation of Bos- 
ton, Dr. Mather writes of it, " The town hath in- 
deed three elder Sisters in this colony, but it hath 
wonderfully outgrown them all, and her mother, 



92 BOSTON. 

Old Boston ill England, also ; yea, witliin a few 
years after the first settlement it grew to be the 
metropolis of the whole English America." 

How easy it is, after the city is built, to see 
where it ought to stand. In our beautiful bay, with 
its broad and deep waters covered with sails from 
every port ; with its islands hospitably shining in 
the sun ; with its waters bounded and marked by 
light-houses, buoys and sea-marks ; every foot 
sounded and charted ; with its shores trending 
steadily from the two arms which the capes of 
Massachusetts stretch out to sea, down to the bot- 
tom of the bay where the city domes and spires 
sparkle through the haze, — a good boatman can 
easily find his way for the first time to the State 
House, and wonder that Governor Carver had not 
better eyes than to stop on the Plymouth Sands. 

But it took ten ^^ars to find this out. The col- 
ony of 1620 had landed at Plymouth. It was De- 
cember, and the ground was covered with snow. 
Snow and moonlight make all places alike ; and 
the weariness of the sea, the shrinking from cold 
weather and the pangs of hunger must justify 
them. 

But the next colonj^ planted itself at Salem, and 
the next at Weymouth : another at Medford ; be- 
fore these men, instead of jumping on to the first 
land that offered, wisely judged that the best point 



BOSTON. 93 

for a city was at the bottom of a deep and islanded 
bay, where a copious river entered it, and where 
a bold shore was bounded by a country of rich 
undulating woodland. 

The planters of Massachusetts do not appear to 
have been hardy men, rather, comfortable citizens, 
not at all accustomed to the rough task of discov- 
erers ; and they exaggerated their troubles. Bears 
and wolves were many ; but early, they believed 
there were lions ; Monadnoc was burned over to 
kill them. John Smith was stung near to death by 
the most poisonous tail of a fish, called a sting-ray. 
In the journey of Rev. Peter Bulkeley and his 
company through the forest from Boston to Con- 
cord they fainted from the powerful odor of the 
sweetfern in the sun ; — like what befell, still ear- 
lier, Biorn and Thorfinn, Northmen, in their expe- 
dition to the same coast ; who ate so many grapes 
from the wild vines that they were reeling drunk. 
The lions have never appeared since, — nor before. 
Their crops suffered from pigeons and mice. Na- 
ture has never again indulged in these exaspera- 
tions. It seems to have been the last outrage ever 
committed by the sting-rays or by the sweetfern, 
or by the fox-grapes ; they have been of peaceable 
behavior ever since. 

Any geologist or engineer is accustomed to face 



94 BOSTON. 

more serious dangers than any enumerated, except- 
ing the hostile Indians. But the awe was real and 
overpowering in the superstition with which every 
new object was magnified. The superstition which 
hung over the new ocean had not yet been scat- 
tered ; the powers of the savage were not known ; 
the dangers of the wilderness were unexplored; 
and, in that time, terrors of witchcraft, terrors of 
evil spirits, and a certain degree of terror still 
clouded the idea of God in the mind of the purest. 

The divine will descends into the barbarous mind 
in some strange disguise ; its pure truth not to be 
guessed from the rude vizard under which it goes 
masquerading. The common eye cannot tell what 
the bird will be, from the egg, nor the pure truth 
from the grotesque tenet which sheathes it. But 
by some secret tie it holds the poor savage to it, 
and he goes muttering his rude ritual or mythol- 
ogy, which yet conceals some grand commandment ; 
as courage, veracity, honesty, or chastity and gen- 
erosity. 

So these English men, with the Middle Ages 
still obscuring their reason, were filled with Chris- 
tian thought. They had a culture of their own. 
They read Milton, Thomas a Kempis, Bunyan and 
Flavel with religious awe and delight, not for en- 
tertainment. They were precisely the idealists of 
England ; the most religious in a religious era. An 



BOSTON. 95 

old lady who remembered these pious people said 
of them that "they had to hold on hard to the 
huckleberry bushes to hinder themselves from be- 
ing translated." 

In our own age we are learning to look as on 
chivalry at the sweetness of that ancient piety 
which makes the genius of St. Bernard, Latimer, 
Scougal, Jeremy Taylor, Herbert, and Leighton. 
Who can read the fiery ejaculations of St. Augus- 
tine, a man of as clear a sight as almost any other ; 
of Thomas a Kempis, of Milton, of Bunyan even, 
without feeling how rich and expansive a culture — 
not so much a culture as a higher life — they owed 
to the promptings of this sentiment ; without con- 
trasting their immortal heat with the cold complex- 
ion of our recent wits ? Who can read the pious 
diaries of the Englishmen in the time of the Com- 
monwealth and later, without a sigh that we write 
no diaries to-day? Who shall restore to us the 
odoriferous Sabbaths which made the earth and the 
humble roof a sanctity ? 

This spirit, of course, involved that of Stoicism, 
as, in its turn. Stoicism did this. Yet how much 
more attractive and true that this piety should be 
the central trait and the stern virtues follow, than 
that Stoicism should face the gods and put Jove on 
his defence. That piety is a refutation of every 
skeptical doubt. These men are a bridge to us be- 



96 BOSTON. 

tween the unparalleled piety of the Hebrew epoch 
and our own. These ancient men, like great gar- 
dens with great banks of flowers, send out their 
perfumed breath across the great tracts of time. 
How needful is David, Paul, Leighton, Fenelon, to 
our devotion. Of these writers, of this spirit which 
deified them, I will say with Confucius, " If in the 
morning I hear of the right way, and in the even- 
ing die, I can be happy." 

I trace to this deep religious sentiment and to its 
culture great and salutary results to the people of 
New England ; first, namely, the culture of the in- 
tellect, which has always been found in the Calvin- 
istic church. The colony was planted in 1620 ; in 
1638 Harvard College was founded. The General 
Court of Massachusetts, in 1647, " To the end that 
learning may not be buried in the graves of the 
forefathers, ordered, that every township, after the 
Lord has increased them to the number of fifty 
householders, shall appoint one to teach all chil- 
dren to write and read ; and where any town shall 
increase to the number of a hundred families, they 
shall set up a Grammar School, the Masters thereof 
being able to instruct youth so far as they may be 
fitted for the University." 

Many and rich are the fruits of that simple stat- 
ute. The universality of an elementary education 
in New England is her praise and her power in the 



BOSTON. 97 

whole world. To the schools succeeds the Tillage 
Lyceum, — now very general throughout all the 
country towns of New England, — where every 
week through the winter, lectures are read and de- 
bates sustained which prove a college for the young 
rustic. Hence it happens that the young farmers 
and mechanics, who work all summer in the field or 
shop, in the winter often go into a neighboring 
town to teach the district school arithmetic and 
grammar. As you know too. New England sup- 
plies annually a large detachment of preachers and 
schoolmasters and private tutors to the interior of 
the South and West. 

New England lies in the cold and hostile latitude 
which by shutting men up in houses and tight and 
heated rooms a large part of the year, and then 
again shutting up the body in flannel and leather, 
defrauds the human being in some degree of his 
relations to external nature ; takes from the mus- 
cles their suppleness, from the skin its exposure to 
the air ; and the New Englander, like every other 
northerner, lacks that beauty and grace which the 
habit of living much in the air, and the activity of 
the limbs not in labor but in graceful exercise, tend 
to produce in climates nearer to the sun. Then the 
necessity, which always presses the northerner, of 
providing fuel and many clothes and tight houses 



98 BOSTON. 

and much food against the long whiter, makes him 
anxiously frugal, and generates in him that spirit 
of detail which is not grand and enlarging, but 
goes rather to pinch the features and degrade the 
character. 

As an antidote to the spirit of commerce and of 
economy, the religious spirit — always enlarging, 
firing man, prompting the pursuit of the vast, the 
beautiful, the unattainable — was especially neces- 
sary to the culture of New England. In the midst 
of her laborious and economical and rude and awk- 
ward population, where is little elegance and no 
facility ; with great accuracy in details, little spirit 
of society or knowledge of the world, you shall not 
unfrequently meet that refinement which no educa- 
tion and no habit of society can bestow; which 
makes the elegance of wealth look stupid, and 
unites itself by natural affinity to the highest minds 
of the world ; nourishes itself on Plato and Dante, 
Michael Angelo and Milton ; on whatever is pure 
and sublime in art, — and, I may say, gave a hos- 
pitality in this country to the spirit of Coleridge 
and Wordsworth, and to the music of Beethoven, 
before yet their genius had found a hearty welcome 
in Great Britain. 

I do not look to find in England better manners 
than the best manners here. We can show native 
examples, and I may almost say (travellers as we 



BOSTON. 99 

are) natives who never crossed the sea, who possess 
all the elements of noble behavior. 

It is the property of the religious sentiment to be 
the most refining of all influences. No external 
advantages, no good birth or breeding, no culture 
of the taste, no habit of command, no association 
with the elegant, — even no depth of affection that 
does not rise to a religious sentiment, can bestow 
that delicacy and grandeur of bearing which belong 
only to a mind accustomed to celestial conversa- 
tion. Ail else is coarse and external ; all else is 
tailoring and cosmetics beside this ; ^ for thoughts 
are expressed in every look or gesture, and these 
thoughts are as if angels had talked with the child. 

By this instinct we are lifted to higher ground. 
The religious sentiment gave the iron purpose and 
arm. That colonizing was a great and generous 
scheme, manly meant and manly done. When 
one thinks of the enterprises that are attempted 
in the heats of youth, the Zoars, New-Harmonies 
and Brook -Farms, Oakdales and Phalansteries, 
which have been so profoundly ventilated, but end 
in a protracted picnic which after a few weeks or 
months dismisses the partakers to their old homes, 

1 " Come dal fuoco il caldo, esser diviso, 

Non puo'l bel dall' eterno." 

Michel Angelo. 

[As from fire heat cannot be separated, — neither can 
beauty from the eternal.] 

LOfC 



100 BOSTON. 

we see with new increased respect the solid, well- 
calculated scheme of these emigrants, sitting down 
hard and fast where they came, and building their 
empire by due degrees. 

John Smith says, " Thirty, forty, or fifty sail 
went yearly in America only to trade and fish, but 
nothing would be done for a plantation, till about 
some hundred of your Brownists of England, Am- 
sterdam and Leyden went to New Plymouth ; 
whose humorous ignorances caused them for more 
than a year to endure a wonderful deal of misery, 
with an infinite patience." 

What should hinder that this America, so long 
kept in reserve from the intellectual races until 
they should grow to it, glimpses being afforded 
which spoke to the imagination, yet the firm shore 
hid until science and art should be ripe to propose 
it as a fixed aim, and a man should be found who 
should sail steadily west sixty-eight days from the 
port of Palos to find it, — what should hinder that 
this New Atlantis should have its happy ports, its 
mountains of security, its gardens fit for human 
abode where all elements were right for the health, 
power and virtue of man ? 

America is growing like a cloud, towns on towns. 
States on States ; and wealth (always interesting, 
since from wealth power cannot be divorced) is 
piled in every form invented for comfort or pride. 



BOSTON. 101 

If John Bull interest you at home, come and 
see him under new conditions, come and see the 
Jonathanization of John. 

There are always men ready for adventures, — 
more in an over-governed, over-peopled country, 
where all the professions are crowded and all 
character suppressed, than elsewhere. This thirst 
for adventure is the vent which Destiny offers ; a 
war, a crusade, a gold mine, a new country, speak 
to the imagination and offer swing and play to the 
confined powers. 

The American idea, Emancipation, appears in 
our freedom of intellection, in our reforms, and 
in our bad politics ; it has, of course, its sinister 
side, which is most felt by the drilled and scholas- 
tic, but if followed it leads to heavenly places. 

European and American are each ridiculous out 
of his sphere. There is a Columbia of thought 
and art and character, which is the last and endless 
sequel of Columbus's adventure. 

European critics regret the detachment of the 
Puritans to this country without aristocracy; 
which a little reminds one of the pity of the Swiss 
mountaineers when shown a handsome English- 
man : " What a pity he has no goitre ! " The fu- 
ture historian will regard the detaclnnent of the 
Piu-itans without aristocracy the supreme fortune 



102 BOSTON, 

of the colony ; as great a gain to mankind as the 
opening of this continent. 

There is a little formula, couched in pure Saxon, 
which you may hear in the corners of streets and 
in the yard of the dame's school, from very little 
republicans : " I 'm as good as you be," which con- 
tains the essence of the Massachusetts Bill of 
Rights and of the American Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. And this was at the bottom of Plym- 
outh Rock and of Boston Stone; and this could 
be heard (by an acute ear) in the Petitions to the 
King, and the platforms of churches, and was said 
and sung in every tone of the psalmody of the 
Puritans ; in every note of Old Hundred and 
Hallelujah and Short Particular Metre. 

What is very conspicuous is the saucy indepen- 
dence which shines in all their eyes. They could 
say to themselves. Well, at least this yoke of man, 
of bishops, of courtiers, of dukes, is off my neck. 
We are a little too close to wolf and famine than 
that anybody should give himseK airs here in the 
swamp. 

London is a long way off, with beadles and pur- 
suivants and horse-guards. Here in the clam- 
banks and the beech and chestnut forest, I shall 
take leave to breathe and think freely. If you do 
not like it, if you molest me, I can cross the brook 
and plant a new state out of reach of anything but 
squirrels and wild pigeons. 



BOSTON. 103 

Bonaparte sighed for his republicans of 1789. 
The soul of a political party is by no means usu- 
ally the officers and pets of the party, who wear 
the honors and fill the high seats and spend the 
salaries. No, but the theorists and extremists, the 
men who are never contented and never to be con- 
tented with the work actually accomplished, but 
who from conscience are engaged to what that 
party professes, — these men will work and watch 
and rally and never tire in carrying their point. 
The theology and the instinct of freedom that grew 
here in the dark in serious men furnished a certain 
rancor which consumed all opposition, fed the 
party and carried it, over every rampart and obsta- 
cle, to victory. 

Boston never wanted a good principle of rebel- 
lion in it, from the planting until now ; there is 
always a minority unconvinced, always a heresi- 
arch, whom the governor and deputies labor with 
but cannot silence. Some new light, some new 
doctrinaire who makes an unnecessary ado to es- 
tablish his dogma ; some Wheelwright or defender 
of Wheelwright ; some protester against the 
cruelty of the magistrates to the Quakers ; some 
tender minister hospitable to Whitefield against 
the counsel of all the ministers ; some John 
Adams and Josiah Quincy and Governor Andrew 
to undertake and carry the defence of patriots in 



104 BOSTON. 

the courts against the uproar of all the province ; 
some defender of the slave against the politician 
and the merchant; some champion of first prin- 
ciples of humanity against the rich and luxuri- 
ous ; some adversary of the death penalty ; some 
pleader for peace ; some noble protestant, who will 
not stoop to infamy when all are gone mad, but 
will stand for liberty and justice, if alone, until all 
come back to him. 

I confess I do not find in our people, with all their 
education, a fair share of originality of thought ; 
— not any remarkable book of wisdom ; not any 
broad generalization, any equal power of imagina- 
tion. No Novum Organon ; no Mecanique Ce- 
leste ; no Principia ; no Paradise Lost ; no Ham- 
let ; no Wealth of Nations ; no National Anthem ; 
have we yet contributed. 

Nature is a frugal mother and never gives with- 
out measure. When she has work to do she quali- 
fies men for that and sends them equipped for that. 
In Massachusetts she did not want epic poems 
and dramas yet, but first, planters of towns, fellers 
of the forest, builders of mills and forges, build- 
ers of roads, and farmers to till and harvest corn 
for the world. Corn, yes, but honest corn ; corn 
with thanks to the Giver of corn ; and the best 
thanks, namely, obedience to his law ; this was the 



BOSTON. 105 

office imposed on our Founders and people ; liberty, 
clean and wise. It was to be built on Religion, 
the Emancipator ; Religion which teaches equality 
(if all men in view of the spirit which created man. 

The seed of prosperity was planted. The peo- 
ple did not gather where they had not sown. They 
did not try to unlock the treasure of the world 
except by honest keys of labor and skill. They 
knew, as God knew, that command of nature comes 
by obedience to nature ; that reward comes by 
faithful service ; that the most noble motto was 
that of the Prince of Wales, — "I serve," — and 
that he is greatest who serves best. There was no 
secret of labor which they disdained. 

They accepted the divine ordination that man is 
for use ; that intelligent being exists to the utmost 
use ; and that his ruin is to live for pleasure and 
for show. And when within our memory some 
flippant senator wished to taunt the people of this 
country by calling them, " the mudsills of society," 
he paid them ignorantly a true praise ; for good 
men are as the green plain of the earth is, as the 
rocks, and the beds of rivers are, the foundation 
and flooring and sills of the State. 

The power of labor which belongs to the English 
race fell here into a climate which befriended it, 
and into a maritime country made for trade, where 
was no rival and no envious lawgiver. The sailor 



106 BOSTON. 

and the merchant made the law to suit themselves, 
so that there was never, I suppose, a more rapid 
expansion in population, wealth and all the ele- 
ments of power, and in the citizens' consciousness 
of power and sustained assertion of it, than was 
exhibited here. 

Moral values become also money values. When 
men saw that these people, besides their industry 
and thrift, had a heart and soul and would stand 
by each other at all hazards, they desired to come 
and live here. A house in Boston was worth as 
much again as a house just as good in a town of 
timorous people, because here the neighbors would 
defend each other against bad governors and against 
troops ; quite naturally house-rents rose in Boston. 

Besides, youth and health like a stirring town, 
above a torpid place where nothing is doing. In 
Boston they were sure to see something going for- 
ward before the year was out. For here was the 
moving principle itself, the ijrimum mobile, a liv- 
ing mind agitating the mass and always afflicting 
the conservative class with some odious novelty or 
other ; a new religious sect, a political point, a 
point of honor, a reform in education, a philan- 
thropy. 

From Roger Williams and Eliot and Robinson 
and the Quaker women who for a testimony walked 
naked into the streets, and as the record tells us 



BOSTON. 107 

" were arrested and publicly whipped, — the bag- 
gages that they were ; " from Wheelwright the 
Antinomian and Ann Hutchinson and Whitefield 
and Mother Ann the first Shaker, down to Abner 
Kneeland and Father Lamson and William Gar- 
rison, there never was wanting some thorn of dis- 
sent and innovation and heresy to prick the sides 
of conservatism. 

With all their love of his person, they took im- 
mense pleasure in turning out the governor and 
deputy and assistants, and contravening the coun- 
sel of the clergy ; as they had come so far for the 
sweet satisfaction of resisting the Bishops and the 
King. 

The Massachusetts colony grew and filled its 
own borders with a denser population than any 
other American State (Kossuth called it the City 
State), all the while sending out colonies to every 
part of New England ; then South and West, until 
it has infused all the Union with its blood. 

We are willing to see our sons emigrate, as to 
see our hives swarm. That is what they were made 
to do, and what the land wants and invites. The 
towns or countries in which the man lives and 
dies where he was born, and his son and son's 
son live and die wh^ ^ he did, are of no great 
account. 



108 BOSTON. 

I know that this history contains many black 
lines of cruel injustice ; murder, persecution, and 
execution of women for witchcraft. 

I am afraid there are anecdotes of poverty and 
disease in Broad Street that match the dismal 
statistics of New York and London. No doubt all 
manner of vices can be found in this, as in every 
city; infinite meanness, scarlet crime. Granted. 
But there is yet in every city a certain permanent 
tone ; a tendency to be in the right or in the wrong ; 
audacity or slowness ; labor or luxury ; giving or 
parsimony ; which side is it on ? And I hold that 
a community, as a man, is entitled to be judged by 
his best. 

We are often praised for what is least ours. 
Boston too is sometimes pushed into a theatrical 
attitude of virtue, to which she is not entitled and 
which she cannot keep. But the genius of Boston 
is seen in her real independence, productive power 
and northern acuteness of mind, — which is in 
nature hostile to oppression. It is a good city as 
cities go ; Nature is good. The climate is electric, 
good for wit and good for character. What pub- 
lic souls have lived here, what social benefactors, 
what eloquent preachers, skilful workmen, stout 
captains, wise merchants ; what fine artists, what 
gifted conversers, what mathematicians, what law- 



BOSTON. 109 

yers, what wits ; and where is the middle class so 
able, virtuous and instructed ? 

And thus our little city thrives and enlarges, 
striking deep roots, and sending out boughs and 
buds, and propagating itself like a banyan over 
the continent. Greater cities there are that sprung 
from it, full of its blood and names and traditions. 
It is very willing to be outnumbered and out- 
grown, so long as they carry forward its life of 
civil and religious freedom, of education, of so- 
cial order, and of loyalty to law. It is very willing 
to be outrun in numbers, and in wealth ; but it is 
very jealous of any superiority in these, its natural 
instinct and privilege. You cannot conquer it 
by numbers, or by square miles, or by counted 
millions of wealth. For it owes its existence 
and its power to principles not of yesterday, 
and the deeper principle will always prevail over 
whatever material accumulations. 

As long as she cleaves to her liberty, her educa- 
tion and to her spiritual faith as the foundation of 
these, she will teach the teachers and rule the ru- 
lers of America. Her mechanics, her farmers will 
toil better ; she will repair mischief ; she will fur- 
nish what is wanted in the hour of need ; her sail- 
ors will man the Constitution ; her mechanics re- 
pair the broken rail ; her troops will be the first 
in the field to vindicate the majesty of a free 



110 BOSTON. 

nation, and remain last on the field to secure it. 
Her genius will write tlie laws and her historians 
record the fate of nations. 

In an age of trade and material prosperity, we 
have stood a little stupefied by the elevation of our 
ancestors. We praised the Puritans because we 
did not find in ourselves the spirit to do the like. 
We praised with a certain adulation the invariable 
valor of the old war-gods and war-councillors of the 
Eevolution. Washington has seemed an excep- 
tional virtue. This praise was a concession of un- 
worthiness in those who had so much to say of it. 
The heroes only shared this power of a sentiment, 
which, if it now breathes into us, will make it easy 
to us to understand them, and we shall not longer 
flatter them. Let us shame the fathers, by supe- 
rior virtue in the sons. 

It is almost a proverb that a great man has not 
a great son. Bacon, Newton and Washington 
were childless. But, in Boston, Nature is more 
indulgent, and has given good sons to good sires, 
or at least continued merit in the same blood. The 
elder President Adams has to divide voices of fame 
with the younger President Adams. The elder 
Otis could hardly excel the popular eloquence of 
the younger Otis ; and the Quincy of the Revolu- 
tion seems compensated for the shortness of his 



BOSTON. Ill 

bright career in the son who so long lingers 
among the last of those bright clouds, 

" That on the steady breeze of honor sail 
In long succession calm and beautiful." 

Here stands to-day as o£ yore our little city of 
the rocks ; here let it stand forever, on the man- 
bearing granite of the North ! Let her stand fast 
by herself ! She has grown great. She is filled 
with strangers, but she can only prosper by adher- 
ing to her faith. Let every child that is born of 
her and every child of her adoption see to it to 
keep the name of Boston as clean as the sun ; and 
in distant ages her motto shall be the prayer of 
millions on all the hills that gird the town, " As 
with our Fathers, so God be with us ! " SiCUT 
PATRIBUS, SIT DeUS NOBIS ! 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



Never did sculptor's dream unfold 

A form which marble doth not hold 

In its white block ; yet it therein shall find 

Only the hand secure and bold 

Which still obeys the mind. 

Michael Angelo's Sonnets, 



NoN ha 1' ottimo artista alcun concetto, 
Ch'un marmo solo in se non circoscriva 
Col suo soverchio, e solo a qnello arriva 
La man che obbedisce all' intelletto. 

M. Angelo, Sonnetto prirm. 



MICHAEL ANGELO.i 



Few lives of eminent men are harmonious ; few 
that furnish, in all the facts, an image correspond- 
ing with their fame. But all things recorded of 
Michael Angelo Buonarotti agree together. He 
lived one life ; he pursued one career. He accom- 
plished extraordinary works ; he uttered extraordi- 
nary words ; and in tliis greatness was so little ec- 
centricity, so true was he to the laws of the human 
mind, that his character and his works, like Sir 
Isaac Newton's, seem rather a part of nature than 
arbitrary productions of the human will. Especi- 
ally we venerate his moral fame. Whilst his name 
belongs to the highest class of genius, his life con- 
tains in it no injurious influence. Every line in his 
biography might be read to the human race with 
wholesome effect. The means, the materials of his 
activity, were coarse enough to be appreciated, 
being addressed for the most part to the eye ; the 
results, sublime and all innocent. A purity severe 
and even terrible goes out from the lofty productions 
1 Reprinted from the North American HevieWf June, 1837. 



116 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

of his pencil and his chisel, and again from the more 
perfect sculpture of his own life, which heals and 
exalts. " He nothing common did, or mean," and 
dying at the end of near ninety years, had not yet 
become old, but was engaged in executing his grand 
conceptions in the ineffaceable architecture of St. 
Peter's. 

Above all men whose history we know, Michael 
Angelo presents us with the perfect image of the 
artist. He is an eminent master in the four j&ne 
arts. Painting, Sculpture, Architecture and Poetry. 
In three of them by visible means, and in poetry by 
words, he strove to express the Idea of Beauty. 
This idea possessed him and determined all liis ac- 
tivity. Beauty in the largest sense, beauty inward 
and outward, comprehending grandeur as a part, 
and reaching to goodness as its soul, — this to re- 
ceive and this to impart, was his genius. 

It is a happiness to find, amid the falsehood and 
griefs of the human race, a soul at intervals born to 
behold and create only beauty. So shaU not the 
indescribable charm of the natural world, the great 
spectacle of morn and evening which shut and open 
the most disastrous day, want observers. The an- 
cient Greeks caUed the world x^^^/^^s, Beauty ; a 
name which, in our artificial state of society, sounds 
fanciful and impertinent. Yet, in proportion as man 
rises above the servitude to wealth and a pursuit of 



MICHAEL ANGELO. Ill 

mean pleasures, he perceives that what is most real 
is most beautiful, and that, by the contemplation of 
such objects, he is taught and exalted. This truth, 
that perfect beauty and perfect goodness are one, 
was made known to Michael Angelo ; and we shall 
endeavor by sketches from his life to show the di- 
rection and limitations of his search after this ele- 
ment. 

In considering a life dedicated to the study of 
Beauty, it is natural to inquire, what is Beauty? 
Can this charming element be so abstracted by the 
human mind, as to become a distinct and permanent 
object? Beauty cannot be defined. Like Truth, 
it is an ultimate aim of the human being. It does 
not lie within the limits of the understanding. 
" The nature of the beautiful," — we gladly borrow 
the language of Moritz, a German critic, — " con- 
sists herein, that because the understanding in the 
presence of the beautiful cannot ask, ' Why is it 
beautiful?' for that reason is it so. There is no 
standard whereby the understanding can determine 
whether objects are beautiful or otherwise. What 
other standard of the beautiful exists, than the en- 
tire circuit of all harmonious proportions of the 
great system of nature? All particular beauties 
scattered up and down in nature are only so far 
beautiful, as they suggest more or less in themselves 
this entire circuit of harmonious proportions." 



118 MICIIAFL AXi^KLO. 

This givat AMiolo, the undorstaiiding oaimot em- 
brace. IVautv may bo felt. It may be produeeil. 
But it cannot be deliiu\l. 

The It^Uian artists sanetion this view of l>eanty 
by deseribing' it as /7^)//) ?n'ir una. ** the many in 
one," or multitude in unity, inthuating that what is 
tindy l>eautif ul sooms ivlated to all nature. A boau- 
tifid pei*son has a kind of universality, imd appears 
t-i^ have truer eonforuiity to all pleasing objeets in 
0>iternal nature than another. Every great work 
of art seeuis to take up into itself the exoelleneies 
of all works, and to present, as it weiv. a miniature 
of natuiv. 

In ivlation to this element of Beaut}% tlie minds 
of men divide themselves into two elassos. In tlie 
fii*st place, all men have an org-aniziition eorivsjxmd- 
ing more or less to the entiiv system of natuiv, and 
theivfoiv a power of deriving pleasuiv fivm Ixwuty. 
This is Taste. In the seeond plaee, cerhiin minds, 
more olosely harmonized with natuiv, jx^ssess the 
jxnver of abstraeting l>eauty fivm thing's, and iv- 
produeiiig it in new forms, on any objeet to which 
acc*ident may determine theii' iU'tivity; as stone, 
Cim\'as, song, histcry. This is Art. 

Since IVauty is thus an abstraetiou of tlie har- 
mony and pivportiou that reigns in all natuiv, it is 
tliereforc studioii in nature, and not in what does 
not exist llenee the celebratCil French miu\im of 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 119 

Khotoric, liioi dc ban/ (luc /c rrai : " Nothing is 
beautiful but what is true." It has a nuioh wider 
applieation than to Khetoric : as wide, namely, :is 
the t^rms of the proposition admit. In art, jNIiehael 
Aiigelo is himself but a document or veritieation 
of this maxim. lie labored to express the beauti- 
ful, in the entire eonvietion that it was only to be 
attained unto by knowledge of tlie true. The com- 
mon eye is satisfied with the surface on which it 
rests. The wise eye knows that it is surface, and, 
if beautiful, only the result of interior harmonies, 
which, to him who knows them, compose the image 
of higher beauty. ^Moreover, he knew well that only 
by an understanding of the internal mechanism can 
the outside be faithfully delineated. The walls of 
houses are ti*ansparent to the architect. The symp- 
toms disclose the constitution to the physician ; and 
to the artist it belongs by a better knowledge of 
anatomy, luid, within anatomy, of life and thought, 
to acquire the power of true dra^^'ing. ••* The hu- 
man form," says Goethe, " cannot be comprehended 
through seeing its surface. It must be stripped of 
the muscles, its parts separated, its joints observed, 
its divisions marked, its action and counter action 
learned ; the hidden, the reposing, the foundation of 
the apparent, nmst be searched, if one would really 
see and imitiite what moves as a beautiful insepai*a- 
ble whole in living waves before the eye." Michael 



120 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

Angelo dedicated himseK, from his childhood to his 
death, to a toilsome observation of nature. The 
first anecdote recorded of him shows him to be al- 
ready on the right road. Granacci, a painter's ap- 
prentice, ha\dng lent him, when a boy, a print of St. 
Antony beaten by de\als, together with some colors 
and pencils, he went to the fish-market to observe the 
form and color of fins and of the eyes of fish. Car- 
dinal Farnese one day f oimd him, when an old man, 
walking alone in the Coliseum, and expressed his 
surprise at finding him solitary amidst the ruins ; 
to which he replied, '' I go yet to school that I may 
continue to learn." And one of the last drawings 
in his portfolio is a sublime hint of his own feel- 
ing ; for it is a sketch of an old man with a long 
beard, in a go-cart, with an hoiu'-glass before him ; 
and the motto, Ancora wiparo, '* I still learn." 

In this spirit he devoted himself to the study of 
anatomy for twelve years ; we ought to say rather, 
as long as he lived. The depth of his knowledge in 
anatomy has no parallel among the artists of mod- 
ern times. Most of his designs, his contemporaries 
inform us, were made with a pen, and in the style 
of an engraving on copper or wood ; a manner more 
expressive but not admitting of correction. When 
Michael Angelo would begin a statue, he made first 
on paper the i<l-eleton ; afterwards, upon another 
paper, the same figure clothed with muscles. The 



MICH Ah: I. AN(^F.r,o. 121 

studies of the statue of Christ in the Church of 
Miuerva at Home, niade in tliis manner, were long 
preserved. 

Tliose who have never given attention to the arts 
of design, are surprised that tlie artist shouhl hiid 
so much to study in a fabric of such limited parts 
and dimensions as the human body. But reflection 
discloses evermore a. closer iuialogy between the 
finite form and the iniinite inhabitant. Man is the 
highest, iuid indeed tlie only proper object of plastic 
art. There needs no better proof of our instinctive 
feeling of the inunense ex})ression of which the hu- 
man tigure is capable, than the uniform tendency 
which the religion of every country has betrayed 
towards xVnthropomorphism, or attributing to the 
Deity the luunan form. And behold the effect of 
this familiar object every day ! No acquaintance 
with i\n^ secrets of its mechanism, no degrading 
views of human nature, not the most swinish com- 
post of nuid and blood that was ever misnamed ])ln- 
losophy, can avail to hinder us from doing involun- 
tary reverence to any exhibition of majesty or sur- 
passing beauty in human clay. 

Our knowledge of its highest expression we owe 
to the Fine Arts. Not easily in this age will any 
man acquire by himself such perceptions of the 
dignity or grace of the human frame, as the student 
of ai't owes to the remains of Phidias, to the Apollo, 



122 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

the Jove, the paintings and statues of Michael An- 
gelo, and the works of Canova. There are now in 
Italy, both on canvas and in marble, forms and 
faces which the imagination is enriched by contem- 
plating. Goethe says that he is but half himself 
who has never seen the Juno in the Eondanini pal- 
ace at Rome. Seeing these works true to human 
nature and yet superhuman, " we feel that we are 
greater than we know." Seeing these works, we 
appreciate the taste which led Michael Angelo, 
against the taste and against the admonition of his 
patrons, to cover the walls of churches with un- 
clothed figures, '' improper " says his biographer, 
" for the place, but proper for the exhibition of all 
the pomp of his profound knowledge." 

The love of beauty which never passes beyond 
outline and color, was too slight an object to occupy 
the powers of his genius. There is a closer relation 
than is commonly thought between the fine arts and 
the useful arts ; and it is an essential fact in the his- 
tory of Michael Angelo, that his love of beauty is 
made solid and perfect by his deep understandmg 
of the mechanic arts. Architecture is the bond 
that unites the elegant and the economical arts, 
and his sldll in this is a pledge of his capacity in 
both kinds. His Titanic handwriting in marble 
and travertine is to be found in every part of Eome 
and Florence; and even at Venice, on defective 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 123 

evidence, he is said to have given the plan of the 
bridge of the Rialto. Nor was his a skill in orna- 
ment, or confined to the outline and designs of tow- 
ers and fac^ades, but a thorough acquaintance with 
all the secrets of the art, with all the details of 
economy and strength. 

When the Florentines united themselves with 
Venice, England and France, to oppose the power 
of the Emperor Charles V., Michael Angelo was 
appointed Military Architect and Engineer, to su- 
perintend the erection of the necessary works. He 
visited Bologna to inspect its celebrated fortifica- 
tions, and, on his return, constructed a fortification 
on the heights of San Miniato, which commands the 
city and environs of Florence. On the 24th of 
October, 1529, the Prince of Orange, general of 
Charles V., encamped on the hills surrounding the 
city, and his fii-st operation was to throw up a ram- 
part to storm the bastion of San Miniato. His 
design was frustrated by the providence of Michael 
Angelo. Michael made such good resistance, that 
the Prince directed the artillery to demolish the 
tower. The artist hung mattresses of wool on the 
side exposed to the attack, and by means of a bold 
projecting cornice, from which they were suspended, 
a considerable space was left between them and the 
wall. This simple expedient was sufficient, and the 
Prince was obliged to turn his siege into a blockade. 



124 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

After an active and successful service to the city 
for six months, Michael Angelo was informed of 
a treachery that was ripening within the walls. 
He communicated it to the government with his ad- 
vice upon it ; but was mortified by receiving from 
the government reproaches at his credulity and 
fear. He replied, '' that it was useless for him to 
take care of the walls, if they were determined not 
to take care of themselves, " and he withdrew pri- 
vately from the city to Ferrara, and thence to Ven- 
ice. The news of his departure occasioned a gen- 
eral concern in Florence, and he was instantly fol- 
lowed with apologies and importunities to return. 
He did so, and resumed his office. On the 21st of 
March, 1530, the Prince of Orange assaulted the 
city by storm. Michael Angelo is represented as 
having ordered his defence so vigorously, that the 
Prince was compelled to retire. By the treachery 
however of the general of the Republic, Malatesta 
Baglioni, all his skill was rendered unavailing, and 
the city capitulated on the 9th of August. The 
excellence of the works constructed by our artist 
has been approved by Vauban, who visited them 
and took a plan of them. 

In Rome, Michael Angelo was consulted by Pope 
Paul III. in building the fortifications of San 
Borgo. He built the stairs of Ara Celi leading to 
the Church once the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus ; 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 125 

he arranged the piazza of the Capitol, and built its 
porticoes. He was charged with rebuilding the 
Pons Palatinus over the Tiber. He prepared, ac- 
cordingly, a large quantity of blocks of travertine, 
and was proceeding with the work, when, through 
the intervention of his rivals, this work was taken 
from him and intrusted to Nanni di Bacio Bigio, 
who plays but a pitiful part in Michael's history. 
Nanni sold the travertine, and filled up the piers 
with gravel at a small expense. Michael Angelo 
made known his opinion, that the bridge could not 
resist the force of the current ; and, one day riding 
over it on horseback, with his friend Vasari, he 
cried, " George, this bridge trembles under us ; let 
us ride faster lest it fall whilst we are upon it." 
It fell, five years after it was built, in 1557, and 
is still called the '' Broken Bridge." 

Versatility of talent in men of imdoubted ability 
always awakens the liveliest interest ; and we ob- 
serve with delight, that, besides the sublimity and 
even extravagance of Michael Angelo, he possessed 
an unexpected dexterity in minute mechanical con- 
trivances. When the Sistine Chapel was prepared 
for him that he might paint the ceiling, he found 
the platform on which he was to work, suspended 
by ropes which passed through the ceiling. Mich- 
ael demanded of San Gallo, the Pope's architect, 
how these holes were to be repaired in the pictiu'e ? 



126 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

San Gallo replied ; " That was for him to con- 
sider, for the platform could be constructed in no 
other way." Michael removed the whole, and con- 
structed a movable platform to rest and roll upon 
the floor, which is believed to be the same simple 
contrivance which is used in Rome, at this day, to 
repair the walls of churches. He gave this model 
to a carpenter, who made it so profitable as to fur- 
nish a dowry for his two daughters. He was so 
nice in tools, that he made with his own hand the 
wimbles, the files, the rasps, the chisels and all 
other irons and instruments which he needed in 
sculpture ; and, in painting, he not only mixed but 
ground his colors himself, trusting no one. 

And not only was this discoverer of Beauty, and 
its teacher among men, rooted and grounded in 
those severe laws of practical skill, which genius 
can never teach, and which must be learned by 
practice alone, but he was one of the most indus- 
trious men that ever lived. His diligence was so 
great that it is wonderful how he endured its fa- 
tigues. The midnight battles, the forced marches, 
the winter campaigns of Julius Csesar or Charles 
XII. do not indicate greater strength of body or of 
mind. He finished the gigantic painting of the 
ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in twenty months, a 
fact which enlarges, it has been said, the known 
powers of man. Indeed he toiled so assiduously 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 127 

at this painful work, that, for a long time after, he 
was unable to see any picture but by holding it 
over his head. A little bread and wine was all his 
nourishment ; and he told Vasari that he often 
slept in his clothes, both because he was too weary 
to undress, and because he would rise in the night 
and go immediately to work. " I have found," 
says his friend, " some of his designs in Florence, 
where, whilst may be seen the greatness of his gen- 
ius, it may also be known that when he wished to 
take Minerva from the head of Jove, there needed 
the hammer of Vulcan." He used to make to a 
single figure nine, ten, or twelve heads before he 
could satisfy himself, seeking that there should be 
in the composition a certain universal grace such as 
nature makes, saying, that " he needed to have his 
compasses in his eye, and not in his hand, because 
the hands work whilst the eye judges." He was 
accustomed to say, " Those figures alone are good, 
from which the labor is scraped off, when the scaf- 
folding is taken away." 

At near eighty years, he began in marble a group 
of four figures for a dead Christ ; because, he said, 
to exercise himself with the mallet was good for his 
health. 

And what did he accomplish ? It does not fall 
within our design to give an account of his works, 
yet for the sake of the completeness of our sketch 



lis MICHAEL AXGEia 

wo will iiiuue tho priuoiixd ouos^ Svnilptuiw ho 
Oidloii hi< art, iuid to it ho n^givttovl :vt*tor\>-:u\is ho 
had not s^iiigly givvu himsolt*. Tho ^tvlo of his ^wint- 
iiig^ i$ luoiumioutiU : aiul ovou his iH>otry ^vvrt^vkos 
of that oharaot<*r. In s^nilptuiw his groat^^st work 
is tho statiio of Mos^?!;' in tho Ohurx^h of l^oti\> in 
ViuvvU^ in Komo, It is a fitting st;Uuo of ^\\h^ss;U 
^10, aiul is do^ig*i\ovl t\> oniKxly tho Hohrow Law. 
Tho law\i"iwr is snpjxvsoil tv> gaxo npon tho wv»r- 
s.hipivi's of tho iiwldon o;\lf, Tho majostio wmth 
of tho tignro danntjji tho Ivholdor. In tho l^aioa 
dol Gnu\ l>noa at Floromw stiutdjs in tho o^vn air, 
his l^ax-id. aKnit u> hnrl tho stono at Gvdiah. lu 
tho Chnr\'h oalUxl tho Minorx-^i, at Ki>nu\ is his 
Christ : ai\ objov^t of s^> mnoh do\\>tion to tho jvv>- 
pU\ that tho riiiht fvxn hivji boon sho^l with a brajxni 
sandal t\> prownt it frvan boing kis5>od away. In St 
IVtvr's* is his l^ot?i. or doiul Christ in tho anns of 
his niothor. In tho Mans<\lomn of tho Moviioi at 
Floronvw aiv tho tv>n\biS of Loronio aiui ClV^^nl\ 
with tho gnuul st5iUKxj5 of Niirht and Day, ainl An- 
rv>n» aJixd Twilight Sowral st^tnos of lo^ faino, 
aa\vl Ivis-ivUotV, aw iu Homo and Floronco and 
IVis, 

His l\unting^ aro in tho Sistino Chapel, v>f 
whioh ho tir^t oowrtxl tho coiling with tho stwry of 
tho oroation, in snv\\>*5^i\» ov\n\^vu*tn\ont>s with tho 
gr««skt s^^rioss of tho lV>phots and Sibyls in altoruato 



.v/(V/.i/7 .i.V(;/-7.(). 120 

tablots, and a sorios o( i;iv:i(or anil snialUn- fancy* 
piooos in iho Innottos. ThivS is liis capital work 
paintod in fivseo. Kvorv ono o{ tlioso piooos, ovory 
lii;niv, ovorv lunul auil t\>ot and tlni^vr, is a shuly 
o( n.natinnv and ilosiL^n. Slli;litini;- the stH'i>nilarv' 
arts of oolorini;-, ami all tho aids of i^raoofnl tinish, 
lio aimed oxolnsivoly, as a storn tlosignor, to ox- 
piYSs tho vigor and niagnitioonco o( his ooncoptions. 
I'pon tho wall, ovor tho altar. Is paintiul tho Last 
dndgniont. 

Of his ilosigns, tho most oolobratoil is tJio oar- 
toon ropivsonting soldiors ooming ont in tJie batJi 
luid anning thonisolvos ; an inoidont of the Will* of 
Pisa. Tho wondorfnl morit of this drawing, whioh 
contrasts tho oxtromos of rohvxation and vigor, is 
oonspimions oven in the coarsest prints. 

0( his gonius for Arohitootnro, it is sntlioiont to 
Siiy that ho bnilt 8t. IVtor's, an ornament of the 
earth, lie said ho wonhl hang the Pantheon in 
the air ; and he redeemed his phnlge by snspenil- 
ing that >i\*t onpola. withont otYonoo to grace or to 
stability, over the astonished behohlor. He did 
not live to oompk^to tlie work ; bnt is tJiore not 
something atVooting in tJie spectacle of an old man, 
on the verge of ninety years, carrying steadily on- 
ward with the heat and determination of manhooil, 
his poetic conooi>tions into progressive exeontion, 
siu'moimting by the ilignity of his pm*poses all ob- 



130 MICHAEL ANGELO, 

staeles and all enmities, aiul only hindered by the 
limits of life from fultllling Ids designs? Very 
slowly eame he, after months and yeai*s, to the 
dome. At last he began to model it very small in 
wax. When it was finisheil, he had it copied lai-gvr 
in woixl, and by this model it was bnilt. Long- 
after it was completed, and often since, to this day, 
rumoi*s are oecasionaDy spivad that it is giving 
way, and it is said to have been injui-ed by nnskiHnl 
attempts to i-epair it. Benedict XIV., during one 
of these j)anics, sent for the architect Maivhese 
Polini, to come to Rome and examine it. Polini 
put au end to all the various pi*ojects of ivpairs, 
by the satisfying sentence ; " The cujx>la does not 
stai-t, and if it should start, nothing can K> done 
but to pull it down." 

The impulse of his gi*and style was instantaneous 
upon his contemjx^niries. Every sti\>ke of his pen- 
cil moved the pencil in KaphaeFs hand. Kaphael 
said, *' I bless Goil I live in the times of Michael 
Ang-elo." Sir Joshua Keynolds, two centuries later, 
dtvlartxl to the British Institution, '* I feel a self- 
congTatulation in knowing myself capable of such 
sensations as he intende<I to excite.** 

A man of such habits and such deeds, made good 
his pretensions to a perception and to delineation 
of external beauty. Init inimitable as his works 
are, his whole Ufe confessed that his hand was aU 



Miriiiri ANGEia 181 

ni:iilt\ni;Ut> io i^xpn^ss his lhi>UL:lil, "IK^ ;iK>m' '* 
lie siiiil, 'Ms an artist whoso haiuls I'an portVi'tly 
i^xiH'uto what his niliul has oi>m'olvotl ; *' ai\il suvh 
was his own luaston , tiiat nuMi sal<l, " tlnMuarhlo 
was tU^xlMo in liis hauils." Vot, I'ontoniplatini;- 
t^viu- with U>vo tho itloa o( absohito hoantv, \\c was 
still tlissatistitHl with his own work. Tho thini^s 
pro^iosiul to him in his iniaL:inatii>n wiM-t* snoh, that, 
iov not biMn.i;- abli' with his hands to t^xpnvss so 
i^rand and torriblo oonooptions, \\c i>t'ton ahandonod 
his work. Vov this ri\ist>n ho ot'ton only Mookinl his 
statuo, A littlo Ih^'oii* \\c diod, ho hnrnoil a i;"ivat 
nnnd>or o( di^sii^ns, ski^tohtvs, and i'arttH>ns niado by 
him, boini;- impatiiMit of thoir dot'oots. (iraoo in 
livini;" fi>rms, t^xoopt in vorv raiv instanoos, did not 
satisfy him. IK' novor matlo bnt om* |H>rtrait (^a 
i'aitoi>n of Mossor 'ri>nnn:'.so ili C\ivaliovi\ booanso 
ho abhi>rivil io draw a likonoss nnloss it won* of 
inhnito boanty. 

Suoh was his doyi>tion to art. Init lot no man 
snpposo that tho imai;os whioh his spirit worshippi'd 
woiv moiv transoripts of oxtonial i^raoo, ov that 
this profound soul was takon or hohlon in tl\o 
ohains oi suportioial boanty. To him, o( all nuMi, 
it was transparent. 'rhri>ni;h it ho behold tlu' eter- 
nal spiritual beauty whieh ovim- idothes itself with 
i^rand and i^raeefnl outlines, as its ap}>ropriato 
form, llo called otern;d i;raeo " tlie frail aiul 



132 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

weary weed, in which God dresses the soul which 
he has called into Time." " As from the fire, heat 
cannot be divided, no more can beauty from the 
eternal." He was conscious in his efforts of higher 
aims than to address the eye. He sought, through 
the eye, to reach the soul. Therefore, as, in the 
first place, he sought to approach the Beautiful by 
the study of the True, so he failed not to make the 
next step of progress, and to seek Beauty in its 
highest form, that of Goodness. The sublimity of 
his art is in his life. He did not only build a di- 
vine temple, and paint and carve saints and projih- 
ets. He lived out the same inspiration. There is 
no spot upon his fame. The fire and sanctity of 
his pencil breathe in his words. When he was in- 
formed that Paul IV. desired he should paint again 
the side of the chapel where the Last Judgment was 
painted, because of the indecorous nudity of the fig- 
ures, he replied, " Tell the Pope that this is easily 
done. Let him reform the world and he will find 
the pictures will reform themselves." He saw 
clearly that if the corrupt and vulgar eyes, that 
could see nothing but indecorum in his terrific 
prophets and angels, could be i^urified as his own 
were pure, they would only find occasion for devo- 
tion in the same figures. As he refused to undo 
his work, Daniel di Volterra was employed to clothe 
the figures ; hence ludicrously called II Braghet- 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 133 

tone. When the Pope suggested to him that the 
chapel would be enriched if the figures were orna- 
mented with gold, Michael Angelo replied, " In 
those days, gold was not worn; and the characters 
I have painted were neither rich nor desirous of 
wealth, but holy men, with whom gold was an ob- 
ject of contempt." 

Not until he was in the seventy-third year of his 
age, he undertook the building of St. Peter's. On 
the death of San Gallo, the architect of the church, 
Paul III. first entreated, then commanded the aged 
artist, to assume the charge of this great work, 
which though commenced forty years before, was 
only commenced by Bramante, and ill continued 
by San Gallo. Michael Angelo, who believed in 
his own ability as a sculptor, but distrusted his 
capacity as an architect, at first refused and then 
reluctantly complied. His heroic stipulation with 
the Pope was worthy of the man and the work. 
He required that he should be permitted to accept 
this work without any fee or reward, because he 
undertook it as a religious act ; and, furthermore, 
that he should be absolute master of the whole de- 
sign, free to depart from the plans of San Gallo 
and to alter what had been already done. 

This disinterestedness and spirit, — no fee and 
no interference, — reminds one of the reward named 
by the ancient Persian. When importuned to claim 



134 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

some compensation of the empire for the important 
services he had rendered it, he demanded, "that 
he and his should neither command nor obey, but 
should be free." However, as it was undertaken, 
so was it performed. When the Pope, delighted 
with one of his chapels, sent him one hundred 
crowns of gold, as one month's wages, Michael sent 
them back. The Pope was angry, but the artist 
was immovable. Amidst endless annoyances from 
the envy and interest of the office-holders and 
agents in the work whom he had displaced, he 
steadily ripened and executed his vast ideas. The 
combined desire to fulfil, in everlasting stone, the 
conceptions of his mind, and to complete his worthy 
offering to Almighty God, sustained him through 
numberless vexations with unbroken spirit. In 
answer to the importunate solicitations of the Duke 
of Tuscany that he would come to Florence, he 
replies that " to leave St. Peter's in the state in 
which it now was, would be to ruin the structure, 
and thereby be guilty of a great sin ; " that he 
hoped he should shortly see the execution of his 
plans brought to such a point that they could no 
longer be interfered with, and this was the capital 
object of his wishes, " if," he adds, " I do not com- 
mit a great crime, by disappointing the cormorants 
who are daily hoping to get rid of me." 

A natural fruit of the nobility of his spirit is his 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 135 

admiration of Dante, to whom two of his sonnets 
are addressed. He shared Dante's " deep contempt 
of the vulgar, not of the simple inhabitants of lowly- 
streets or humble cottages, but of that sordid and 
abject crowd of all classes and all places who ol)- 
scure, as much as in them lies, every beam of 
beauty in the universe." In like manner, he pos- 
sessed an intense love of solitude. Pie lived alone, 
and never or very rarely took his meals with any 
person. As will be supposed, he had a passion for 
the country, and in old age speaks with extreme 
pleasure of his residence with the hermits in the 
mountains of Spoleto ; so much so that he says he is 
" only half in Rome, since, truly, peace is only to 
be found in the woods." Traits of an almost sav- 
age independence mark all his history. Although 
he was rich, he lived like a poor man, and never 
would receive a present from any person ; because 
it seemed to him that if a man gave him anything, 
he was always obligated to that individual. His 
friend Vasari mentions one occasion on which his 
scruples were overcome. It seems that Michael 
was accustomed to work at night with a pasteboard 
cap or helmet on his head, into which he stuck a 
candle, that his work might be lighted and his 
hands at liberty. Vasari observed that he did not 
use wax candles, but a better sort made of the tal- 
low of goats. He therefore sent him four bundles 



136 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

of them, containing forty pounds. His servant 
brought them after night-fall, and presented them 
to him. Michael Angelo refused to receive them. 
" Look you, Messer Michael Angelo," replied the 
man, "these candles have well nigh broken my 
arm, and I will not carry them back ; but just here, 
before your door, is a spot of soft mud, and they 
will stand upright in it very well, and there I will 
light them all." — " Put them down, then," returned 
Michael, "since you shall not make a bonfire at 
my gate." Meantime he was liberal to profusion 
to his old domestic Urbino, to whom he gave at one 
time two thousand crowns, and made him rich in 
his service. 

Michael Angelo was of that class of men who 
are too superior to the multitude around them to 
command a full and perfect sympathy. They stand 
in the attitude rather of appeal from their contem- 
poraries to their race. It has been the defect of 
some great men, that they did not duly appreciate 
or did not confess the talents and virtues of others, 
and so lacked one of the richest sources of happi- 
ness and one of the best elements of humanity. 
This apathy perhaps happens as often from pre- 
occupied attention as from jealousy. It has been 
supposed that artists more than others are liable to 
this defect. But Michael Angelo's praise on many 
works is to this day the stamp of fame. Michael 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 137 

Angelo said of Masaccio's pictures that wnen they 
were first painted they must have been alive. He 
said of his predecessor, the architect Bramante, 
that he laid the first stone of St. Peter's, clear, 
insulated, luminous, with fit design for a vast 
structure. He often expressed his admiration of 
Cellini's bust of Altoviti. He loved to express 
admiration of Titian, of Donatello, of Ghiberti, of 
Brunelleschi. And it is said that when he left 
Florence to go to Eome, to build St. Peter's, he 
turned his horse's head on the last hill from which 
the noble dome of the Cathedral ( built by Brunel- 
leschi) is visible, and said, " Like you, I will not 
build ; better than you I cannot." Indeed, as we 
have said, the reputation of many works of art 
now in Italy derives a sanction from the tradition 
of his praise. It is more commendation to say, 
" This was Michael Angelo's favorite," than to say, 
"This was carried to Paris by Napoleon." Mi- 
chael, however, had the philosophy to say, " Only 
an inventor can use the inventions of others." 

There is yet one more trait in Michael Angelo's 
history, which humanizes his character without les- 
sening its loftiness ; this is his platonic love. He 
was deeply enamored of the most accomplished 
lady of the time, Vittoria Colonna, the widow of 
the Marquis di Pescara, who, after the death of her 
husband, devoted herself to letters, and to the writ- 



138 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

mg of religious poetry. She was also an admirer 
of his genius, and came to Rome repeatedly to see 
him. To her his sonnets are addressed ; and they 
all breathe a chaste and divine regard, unparalleled 
in any amatory poetry except that of Dante and 
Petrarch. They are founded on the thought that 
beauty is the virtue of the body, as virtue is the 
beauty of the soul ; that a beautiful person is sent 
into the world as an image of the divine beauty, 
not to provoke but to purify the sensual into an 
intellectual and divine love. He enthrones his 
mistress as a benignant angel, who is to refine and 
perfect his own character. Condivi, his friend, 
has left this testimony ; " I have often heard Mi- 
chael Angelo reason and discourse upon love, but 
never heard him speak otherwise than upon pla- 
tonic love. As for me, I am ignorant what Plato 
has said upon this subject ; but this I know very 
well, that, in a long intimacy, I never heard from 
his mouth a single word that was not perfectly de- 
corous and having for its object to extinguish in 
youth every improper desire, and that his own 
natiu-e is a stranger to depravity." The poems 
themselves cannot be read mthout awakening sen- 
timents of virtue. An eloquent vindication of their 
philosophy may be found in a paper by Signer 
Kadici in the London '^ Retrospective Review," 
and, by the Italian scholar, in the Discourse of 



MfCUAIJ. ANdELO, 139 

fienedetto Varchi upon one Honnot of MIehael 
Angolo, contained in the volume of hi« poemw pub- 
lihhed by Biagioli, from which, in Bulistance, the 
vievvH of Kadi(;i are taken. 

TowardB his end, there seemH to have grown in 
him an invincible appetite of dying, for he knew 
that his Hpirit could only enjoy contentment after 
(h^ath. So vehement wan this desire tlmt, he says, 
*' my soul can no longer be appeased Ijy tlie wonted 
seductions of painting and sculpture." A fine mel- 
ancholy, not unreli(ived }>y his liabitual heroism, 
pervades his thoughts on this subject. At the age 
of eighty years, he wrote to Vasari, sending him 
various spiritual sonnets he had written, and telb 
him he " is at the end of his life, that he is careful 
where he bends his tlioughts, tliat he sees it is al- 
ready twenty-four o'ehick, and no fancy arose in his 
mind but death was sculptured on it." In conver- 
sing upon this subject with one of his friends, that 
person remarked, tiiat Mif;iiael might well grieve 
tliat one who was incessant in his creative labors 
should liave no restoration. " No," replied Michael, 
*' it is nothing ; for, if life pleases us, death, licing 
a work of tiie same master, ought not \a) displease 
us." But a nobler sentiment, uttered by him, is 
contained in his reply to a letter of Vasari, who had 
informed him of the rejoicings made at the house 
of his nephew Lionardo, at 1' lorence, over the birtli 



140 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

of another Buonarotti. Michael admonishes him 
that "a man ought not to smile, when all those 
around him weep ; and that we ought not to show 
that joy when a child is born, which should be re- 
served for the death of one who has lived well." 

Amidst all these witnesses to his independence, 
his generosity, his purity and his devotion, are we 
not authorized to say that this man was penetrated 
with the love of the highest beauty, that is, good- 
ness ; that his was a soul so enamored of grace, 
that it could not stoop to meanness or depravity ; 
that art was to him no means of livelihood or road 
to fame, but the end of living, as it was the organ 
through which he sought to suggest lessons of an 
unutterable wisdom ; that here was a man who 
lived to demonstrate that to the human faculties, 
on every hand, worlds of grandeur and grace are 
opened, which no profane eye and no indolent eye 
can behold, but which to see and to enjoy, demands 
the severest discipline of all the physical, intellect- 
ual and moral faculties of the individual ? 

The city of Florence, on the river Arno, still 
treasures the fame of this man. There, his picture 
hangs in every window ; there, the tradition of his 
opinions meets the traveller in every spot. "Do 
you see that statue of St. George ? Michael An- 
gelo asked it why it did not speak." — "Do you 
see this fine church of Santa Maria Novella ? It 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 141 

is that which Michael Angelo called ' his bride.' " 
— " Look at these bronze gates of the Baptistery, 
with their high reliefs, cast by Ghiberti five hun- 
dred years ago. Michael Angelo said, ' they were 
fit to be the gates of Paradise.' " — Here is the 
church, the palace, the Laurentian library, he built. 
Here is his own house. In the church of Santa 
Croce are his mortal remains. Whilst he was yet 
alive, he asked that he might be buried in that 
church, in such a spot that the dome of the cathe- 
dral might be visible from his tomb when the doors 
of the church stood open. And there and so is 
he laid. The innumerable pilgrims whom the gen- 
ius of Italy draws to the city, duly visit this church, 
which is to Florence what Westminster Abbey is 
to England. There, near the tomb of Nicholas 
Machiavelli, the historian and philosopher ; of Gali- 
leo, the great-hearted astronomer; of Boccaccio, 
and of Alfieri, stands the monument of Michael 
Angelo Buonarotti. Three significant garlands are 
sculptured on the tomb ; they should be four, but 
that his countrymen feared their own partiality. 
The forehead of the bust, esteemed a faithful like- 
ness, is furrowed with eight deep wrinkles one 
above another. The traveller from a distant conti- 
nent, who gazes on that marble brow, feels that he 
is not a stranger in the foreign church ; for the 
great name of Michael Angelo sounds hospitably 



142 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

in his ear. He was not a citizen of any country ; 
he belonged to the human race ; he was a brother 
and a friend to all who acknowledge the beauty 
that beams in universal nature, and who seek by 
labor and self-denial to approach its source in per- 
fect goodness. 



MILTON. 



I FRAMED his tongue to music, 
I armed his hand with skill, 

I moulded his face to beauty, 
And his heart the throne of wilL 



MILTON.i 



The discovery of the lost work of Milton, the 
treatise "Of the Christian Doctrine," in 1823, 
drew a sudden attention to his name. For a short 
time the literary journals were filled with disquisi- 
tions on his genius ; new editions of his works, and 
new compilations of his life, were published. But 
the new-found book having in itself less attraction 
than any other work of Milton, the curiosity of the 
public as quickly subsided, and left the poet to the 
enjoyment of his permanent fame, or to such in- 
crease or abatement of it only as is incidental to a 
sublime genius, quite independent of the momen- 
tary challenge of universal attention to his claims. 

But if the new and temporary renown of the 
poet is silent again, it is nevertheless true that he 
has gained, in this age, some increase of permanent 
praise. The fame of a great man is not rigid and 
stony like his bust. It changes with time. It 
needs time to give it due perspective. It was very 
easy to remark an altered tone in the criticism 
^ Reprinted from the North American Review, July, 1838. 



146 MILTON. 

when Milton re-appeared as an author, fifteen years 
ago, from any that had been bestowed on the same 
subject before. It implied merit indisputable and 
illustrious ; yet so near to the modern mind as to be 
still alive and life-giving. The aspect of Milton, 
to this generation, will be part of the history of the 
nineteenth century. There is no name in English 
literature between his age and ours that rises into 
any approach to his own. And as a man's fame, 
of course, characterizes those who give it, as much 
as him who receives it, the new criticism indicated 
a change in the public taste, and a change which 
the poet himself might claim to have wrought. 

The reputation of Milton had already undergone 
one or two revolutions long anterior to its recent 
aspects. In his lifetime, he was little or not at all 
known as a poet, but obtained great respect from 
his contemporaries as an accomplished scholar and 
a formidable pamphleteer. His poem fell unre- 
garded among his countrymen. His prose writings, 
especially the " Defence of the English People," 
seem to have been read with avidity. These tracts 
are remarkable compositions. They are earnest, 
spiritual, rich with allusion, sparkling with innu- 
merable ornaments ; but, as writings designed to 
gain a practical point, they fail. They are not 
effective, like similar productions of Swift and 
Burke ; or, like what became also controversial 



MILTON. 147 

tracts, several masterly speeches in the history of 
the American Congress. Milton seldom deigns a 
glance at the obstacles that are to be overcome 
before that which he proposes can be done. There 
is no attempt to conciliate, — no mediate, no pre- 
paratory course suggested, — but, peremptory and 
impassioned, he demands, on the instant, an ideal 
justice. Therein they are discriminated from mod- 
ern writings, in which a regard to the actual is all 
but universal. 

Their rhetorical excellence must also suffer some 
deduction. They have no perfectness. These writ- 
ings are wonderful for the truth, the learning, the 
subtilty and pomp of the language ; but the whole 
is sacrificed to the particular. Eager to do fit jus- 
tice to each thought, he does not subordinate it so 
as to project the main argument. He writes whilst 
he is heated ; the piece shows all the rambles and 
resources of indignation, but he has never inte- 
grated the parts of the argument in his mind. The 
reader is fatigued with admiration, but is not yet 
master of the subject. 

Two of his pieces may be excepted from this de- 
scription, one for its faults, the other for its excel- 
lence. The " Defence of the People of England," 
on which his contemporary fame was founded, is, 
when divested of its pure Latinity, the worst of his 
works. Only its general aim, and a few elevated 



148 MILTON. 

passages, can save it. We coidd be well content, 
if the flames to which it was condemned at Paris, 
at Toulouse, and at London, had utterly consumed 
it. The lover of his genius will always regret that 
he should not have taken counsel of his own lofty 
heart at this, as at other times, and have written 
from the deep convictions of love and right, which 
are the foundations of civil liberty. There is little 
poetry or prophecy in this mean and ribald scold- 
ing. To insult Salmasius, not to acquit England, 
is the main design. What under heaven had 
Madame de Saumaise, or the manner of living of 
Saumaise, or Salmasius, or his blunders of grammar, 
or his niceties of diction, to do with the solemn 
question whether Charles Stuart had been rightly 
slain? Though it evinces learning and critical 
skill, yet, as an historical argument, it cannot be 
valued with similar disquisitions of Robertson and 
Hallam, and even less celebrated scholars. But, 
when he comes to speak of the reason of the thing, 
then he always recovers himself. The voice of the 
mob is silent, and Milton speaks. And the perora- 
tion, in which he implores his countrymen to refute 
this adversary by their great deeds, is in a just 
spirit. The other piece is his " Areopagitica," the 
discourse, addressed to the Parliament, in favor of 
removing the censorship of the press ; the most 
splendid of his prose works. It is, as Luther said 



MILTON. 149 

of one of Melancthon's writings, " alive, hath hands 
and feet, — and not like Erasmus's sentences, which 
were made, not grown." The weight of the thought 
is equalled by the vivacity of the expression, and 
it cheers as well as teaches. This tract is far the 
best known and the most read of all, and is still a 
magazine of reasons for the freedom of the press. 
It is valuable in history as an argument addressed 
to a government to produce a practical end, and 
plainly presupposes a very peculiar state of so- 
ciety. 

But deeply as that peculiar state of society, in 
which and for which Milton wrote, has engraved 
itself in the remembrance of the world, it shares 
the destiny which overtakes everything local and 
personal in nature ; and the accidental facts on 
which a battle of principles was fought have already 
passed, or are fast ^^assing, into oblivion. We have 
lost all interest in Milton as the redoubted dispu- 
tant of a sect ; but by his own innate worth this 
man has steadily risen in the world's reverence, 
and occupies a more imposing place in the mind of 
men at this hour than ever before. 

It is the aspect which he presents to this gener- 
ation, that alone concerns us. Milton the polemic 
has lost his popularity long ago ; and if we skip the 
pages of " Paradise Lost " where " God the Father 
argues like a school divine," so did the next age to 



150 MILTON. 

his own. But, we are persuaded, he kindles a love 
and emulation in us which he did not in foregoing 
generations. We think we have seen and heard 
criticism upon the poems, which the bard himself 
would have more valued than the recorded praise 
of Dryden, Addison and Johnson, because it came 
nearer to the mark ; was finer and closer apprecia- 
tion ; the praise of intimate knowledge and delight ; 
and, of course, more welcome to the poet than the 
general and vagaie acknowledgment of his genius 
by those able but imsympathizing critics. We 
think we have heard the recitation of his verses by 
genius which found in them that which itself would 
say ; recitation which told, in the diamond sharp- 
ness of every articulation, that now first was such 
perception and enjoyment possible ;. the perception 
and enjoyment of all his varied rhythm, and his 
perfect fusion of the classic and the English styles. 
This is a poet's right ; for every masterpiece of art 
goes on for some ages reconciling the world unto 
itself, and despotically fashioning the public ear. 
The opposition to it, always greatest at first, con- 
tinually decreases and at last ends ; and a new 
race grows up in the taste and spirit of the work, 
with the utmost advantage for seeing intimately its 
power and beauty. 

But it would be great injustice to Milton to con- 
sider him as enjoying merely a critical reputation. 



MILTON. 161 

It is the prerogative of this great man to stand at 
this hour foremost of all men in literary liistory, 
and so (shall we not say ?) of all men, in the power 
to inspire. Virtue goes out of him into others. 
Leaving out of view the })retensions of our con- 
temporaries (always an incalculable influence), we 
think no man can be named whose mind still acts 
on the cultivated intellect of England and America 
with an energy comparable to that of Milton. As 
a poet, Shakspeare undoubtedly transcends, and 
far surpasses him in his popularity with foreign 
nations ; but Shakspeare is a voice merely ; who 
and what he was that sang, that sings, we know 
not. Milton stands erect, commanding, still visi- 
ble as a man among men, and reads the laws of the 
moral sentiment to the new-born race. There is 
something pleasing in the affection with which we 
can regard a man who died a hundred and sixty 
years ago in the other hemisphere, who, in respect 
to personal relations, is to us as the wind, yet by 
an influence purely spiritual makes us jealous for 
his fame as for that of a near friend. He is iden- 
tifled in the mind with all select and holy images, 
with the supreme interests of the human race. If 
hereby we attain any more precision, we proceed to 
say that we think no man in these later ages, and 
few men ever, possessed so great a conception of 
the manly character. Better than any other he has 



152 MILTON. 

discharged the office of every great man, namely, 
to raise the idea of Man in the minds of his con- 
temporaries and of posterity, — to draw after na- 
ture a life of man, exhibiting such a composition of 
grace, of strength and of virtue, as poet had not 
described nor hero lived. Human nature in these 
ages is indebted to him for its best portrait. Many 
philosophers in England, France and Germany, 
have formerly dedicated their study to this prob- 
lem ; and we think it impossible to recall one in 
those countries who communicates the same vibra- 
tion of hope, of self-reverence, of piety, of delight 
in beauty, which the name of Milton awakens. 
Lord Bacon, who has written much and with pro- 
digious ability on this science, shrinks and falters 
before the absolute and uncourtly Puritan. Ba- 
con's Essays are the portrait of an ambitious and 
profound calculator, — a great man of the vulgar 
sort. Of the vipper world of man's being they 
speak few and faint words. The man of Locke is 
virtuous without enthusiasm and intelligent with- 
out poetry. Addison, Pope, Hume and Johnson, 
students, with very unlike temper and success, of 
the same subject, cannot, taken together, make any 
pretension to the amount or the quality of Milton's 
inspirations. The man of Lord Chesterfield is un- 
worthy to touch his garment's hem. Franklin's 
man is a frugal, inoffensive, thrifty citizen, but sa- 



MILTON. 153 

vors of nothing heroic. The genius of France has 
not, even in her best days, yet cuhninated in any 
one head, — not in Rousseau, not in Pascal, not in 
Fenelon, — into such perception of all the attributes 
of humanity as to entitle it to any rivalry in these 
lists. In Germany, the greatest writers are still 
too recent to institute a comparison ; and yet we 
are tempted to say that art and not life seems to be 
the end of their effort. But the idea of a purer 
existence than any he saw around him, to be real- 
ized in the life and conversation of men, inspired 
every act and every writing of John Milton. He 
defined the object of education to be, " to fit a man 
to perform justly, skilfully and magnanimously all 
tlie offices, both private and public, of peace and 
war." He declared that " he who would aspire to 
write well hereafter in laudable things, ought him- 
self to be a true poem ; that is, a composition and 
pattern of the best and honorablest things, not pre- 
suming to sing high praises of heroic men or famous 
cities, unless he have in himself the experience and 
the practice of all that which is praiseworthy." 
Nor is there in literature a more noble outline of a 
wise external education, than that which he drew 
up, at the age of thirty-six, in his Letter to Samuel 
Hartlib. The muscles, the nerves and the flesh 
' .h which this skeleton is to be filled up and cov- 
ered, exist in his works and must be sought there. 



154 MILTON. 

For the delineation of this heroic image of man, 
Milton enjoyed singular advantages. Perfections 
of body and of mind are attributed to him by his 
biogTaphers, that, if the anecdotes had come down 
from a greater distance of time, or had not been in 
part furnished or corroborated by political enemies, 
would lead us to suspect the portraits were ideal, 
like the Cyrus of Xenophon, the Telemachus of 
F^nelon, or the popular traditions of Alfred the 
Great. 

Handsome to a proverb, he was called the lady 
of his college. Aubrey says, " This harmonical and 
ingenuous soul dwelt in a beautifid and well-pro- 
portioned body." His manners and his carriage 
did him no injustice. Wood, his political opponent, 
relates that '* his deportment was affable, his gait 
erect and manly, bespeaking courage and im- 
dauntedness." Aubrey adds a sharp trait, that ^* he 
pronoimced the letter E very hard, a certain sign of 
satirical genius." He had the senses of a Greek. 
His eye was quick, and he was accomited an excel- 
lent master of his rapier. His ear for music was so 
acute, that he was not only enthusiastic in his love, 
but a skilfiU performer himself ; and his voice, we 
are told, was delicately sweet and harmonious. He 
insists that music shall make a part of a generous 
education. 

With these keen perceptions, he naturally re- 



MILTON. 155 

ceived a lovo of nature and a rare susceptibility to 
impressions from exteruid beauty. In the midst 
of London, he seems, like the creatures of the field 
and the forest, to have been tuned in concord with 
the order of the world ; for, he believed, his poetic 
vein only flowed from the autumnal to the vernal 
equinox ; and, in his essay on Education, he doubts 
whether, in the fine days of spring, any study can 
be accomplished by young- men. '' In those vernal 
seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleas- 
ant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature 
not to go out and see her riches and partake in her 
rejoicing with heaven and earth." His sensibility 
to impressions from beauty needs no proof from his 
history ; it shines through every page. The form 
and the voice of Leonora Baroni seemed to have 
captivated him in Rome, and to her he addressed 
his Italian sonnets and Latin epigrams. 

To these endowments it must be added that his 
address and his conversation were worthy of his 
fame. His house was resorted to by men of wit, 
and foreigners came to England, we are told, " to 
see the Lord Protector and Mr. Milton." In a let- 
ter to one of his foreign correspondents, Emeric Bi- 
got, and in reply apparently to some compliment on 
his powers of conversation, he writes : " Many have 
been celebrated for their compositions, whose com- 
mon conversation and intercourse have betrayed no 



156 MILTON. 

marks of sublimity or genius. But, as far as possi- 
ble, I aim to show myself equal in thought and 
speech to what I have written, if I have written 
anything well." 

These endowments received the benefit of a care- 
ful and happy discipline. His father's care, sec- 
onded by his own endeavor, introduced him to a 
profound skill in all the treasures of Latin, Greek, 
Hebrew and Italian tongues; and, to enlarge and 
enliven his elegant learning, he was sent into Italy, 
where he beheld the remains of ancient art, and 
the rival works of Raphael, Michael Angelo and 
Correggio ; where, also, he received social and ac- 
ademical honors from the learned and the great. 
In Paris, he became acquainted with Grotius ; in 
Florence or Rome, with Galileo ; and probably no 
traveller ever entered that country of history with 
better right to its hospitality, none upon whom its 
influences could have fallen more congenially. 

Among the advantages of his foreign travel, Mil- 
ton certainly did not count it the least that it con- 
tributed to forge and polish that great weapon of 
which he acquired such extraordinary mastery, — 
his power of language. His lore of foreign tongues 
added daily to his consummate skill in the use of 
his own. He was a benefactor of the English 
tongue by showing its capabilities. Very early in 
life he became conscious that he had more to say to 



MILTON, 157 

his fellow-men than they had fit words to embody. 
At nineteen years, in a college exercise, he ad- 
dresses his native language, saying to it that it 
would be his choice to leave trifles for a grave argu- 
ment, 

" Such as may make thee search thy coffers round, 
Before thou clothe my fancy m fit sound ; 
Such where the deep transported mind may soar 
Above the wheeling poles, and at Heaven's door 
Look in, and see each blissfid deity. 
How he before the thunderous throne doth lie." 

Michael Angelo calls " him alone an artist, whose 
hands can execute what his mind has conceived." 
The world, no doubt, contains many of that class 
of men whom Wordsworth denominates " silent 
poets,^^ whose minds teem with images which they 
want words to clothe. But Milton's mind seems to 
have no thought or emotion which refused to be 
recorded. His mastery of his native tongue was 
more than to use it as well as any other ; he cast it 
into new forms. He uttered in it things unheard 
before. Not imitating but rivalling Shakspeare, 
he scattered, in tones of prolonged and delicate mel- 
ody, his pastoral and romantic fancies ; then, soar- 
ing into unattempted strains, he made it capable of 
an unknown majesty, and bent it to express every 
trait of beauty, every shade of thought ; and 
searched the kennel and jakes as well as the palaces 



158 MILTON. 

of sound for the harsh discords of his polemic wrath. 
We may even apply to his performance on the in- 
strument of language, his own description of music ; 

" — Notes, with mauy a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 
With wanton heed and giddy cunning, 
The melting voice through mazes rumiing, 
Untwistmg all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of harmony." 

But, whilst Milton was conscious of possessing 
this intellectual voice, penetrating through ages 
and propelling its melodious undulations forward 
through the coming world, he knew that this mas- 
tery of language was a secondary power, and he re- 
spected the mysterious source whence it had its 
spring; namely, clear conceptions and a devoted 
heart. " For me," he said, in his " Apology for 
Smectymnuus," " although I cannot say that I am 
utterly untrained in those rules which best rhetori- 
cians have given, or unacquainted with those exam- 
ples which the prime authors of eloquence have 
written in any learned tongue, yet true eloquence I 
find to be none but the serious and hearty love of 
truth ; and that whose mind soever is fully pos- 
sessed with a fervent desire to know good things, 
and with the dearest charity to infuse the knowl- 
edge of them into others, when such a man would 
speak, his words, by what I can express, like so 



MILTON. 159 

many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him 
at command, and in well-ordered files, as he would 
wish, fall aptly into their own places." 

But, as basis or fountain of his rare physical 
and intellectual accomplishments, the man Milton 
was just and devout. He is rightly dear to man- 
kind, because in him, among so many perverse and 
partial men of genius, — in him humanity rights 
itself ; the old eternal goodness finds a home in 
his breast, and for once shows itself beautiful. His 
gifts are subordinated to his moral sentiments. 
And his virtues are so gTaceful that they seem 
rather talents than labors. Among so many con- 
trivances as the world has seen to make holiness 
ugly, in Milton at least it was so pure a flame, 
that the foremost impression his character makes 
is that of elegance. The victories of the conscience 
in him are gained by the commanding charm which 
all the severe and restrictive virtues have for him. 
His virtues remind us of what Plutarch said of 
Timoleon's victories, that they resembled Homer's 
verses, they ran so easy and natural. His habits 
of living were austere. He was abstemious in diet, 
chaste, an early riser, and industrious. He tells 
us, in a Latin poem, that the lyrist may indulge in 
wine and in a freer life; but that he who would 
write an epic to the nations, must eat beans and 
drink water. Yet in his severity is no grimace or 



lt>0 MILTON. 

eA'ort. lie serves fivm love, not firun fear. lie is 
mnoiM?nt and exact, Kvauso his taste w-as so pure 
and delicate. He aeknowleilges to his friend Dio- 
dati, at the age of twenty-one, that he is enamoi*eil, 
if e\'er any \s-as, of mon^l perfection : ** For, what- 
ever the Deity may have bestoweil npon me in 
other respects, he has certainly inspired me, if any 
ever were inspireil, with a jx^ssiou for the gooii and 
fair. Xor did Cores. aivoixUng to the fable, ever 
seek her daughter Proserpine \\*ith such imceasing 
solicitude, as 1 have sought this to? koAov iSeui-, this 
jierfect model of the beautiful in all forms and ajv 
jvaranoes of thing's.'* 

AVhen ho ^^-as charged with loose habits of liv- 
ing, ho declares, that " a certain niceness of na- 
ture, an honest haughtiness and seK-esteem either 
of what I was or what T might be, and a mod- 
esty, kept me still alxn-e those low descentiii of 
mind K^neath which he must de]\vt and plungv 
himself, that can agree" to such degnidation. 
*• Ilis mind gave him, " he s:iid, " that every free 
imd gentle spirit, without that oath of chastity, 
ought to bo Kn-n a knight ; nor neeiled to expect 
the gilt spur, or the laying of a sword ujKm his 
shoulder, to stir him up, by his ».\>unst4 and his 
arm, to semuv and pivtoi't " attompteil inno<.vnce. 

He states those things, he s;\)*s, " to show, that, 
thouiih Christiauitv had btvn but sliirhtlv tauirht 



Mfrrox. 161 

him, yet a cortmn rosorvodiiess of natural dispo- 
sition ami moral ilisoipliiie, loarnocl out of tlio 
noMost philosophy, was oiiongh to keep him in 
ilisihiiii of far loss inooutinenoos than those, " 
that had boon oharj>od on him. In like spirit, 
ho ro[>lios to the suspioions oalimmy vospooting* 
his moviiin*;* haunts. '* Those moniini;- haunts arc 
Nvlu>ro they should be, at home ; not sleeping, or 
eoneoeting the surfeits of an irregular feast, but 
up and stirring, in winter, often ere the sound of 
any bell awake men to labor or devotion ; in sum- 
mer, as oft with the bird that iirst rouses, or not 
nuieli t^irdier, to read good authors, or eause them 
to be read, till the attention be weary, or mem- 
ory have its perfeet fraught : then with useful and 
generous labors preserving the body's health and 
hardiness, to render lightsome, elear, and not 
lum}ush obedienee to the mmd, to the eause of 
religion and our eountry's liberty, when it shall 
reipiire tirm hearts in sound bodies to stand and 
eover their stations. These are the morning prae- 
tiees. " This native honor never forsook him. 
It is the spirit of " Conms," the loftiest song in 
the praise of ehastity that is in any language. It 
always sparkles in his eyes. It breathed itself 
over his deeeut form. It refined his amusements, 
whieh eonsisted in gardening, in exereise with the 
sword, and in playing on the organ. It engaged 



162 MILTON. 

his interest in cliivalry, in courtesy, in whatsoever 
savored of generosity and nobleness. This mag- 
nanimity shines in all his life. He accepts a 
high impulse at every risk, and deliberately under- 
takes the defence of the English people, when 
advised by his physicians that he does it at the 
cost of sight. There is a forbearance even in 
his polemics. He opens the war and strikes the 
first blow. When he had cut down his oppo- 
nents, he left the details of death and plunder to 
meaner partisans. He said, " he had learned the 
prudence of the Roman soldier, not to stand break- 
ing of legs, when the breath was quite out of the 
body." 

To this antique heroism, Milton added the gen- 
ius of the Christian sanctity. Few men could 
be cited who have so well understood what is pe- 
culiar in the Christian ethics, and the precise aid 
it has brought to men, in being an emphatic affir- 
mation of the omnipotence of spiritual laws, and, 
by way of marking the contrast to vulgar 023in- 
ions, laying its chief stress on humility. The 
indifferency of a wise mind to what is called 
high and low, and the fact that true greatness 
is a perfect humility, are revelations of Christian- 
ity which Milton well understood. They give an 
inexhaustible truth to all his compositions. His 
firm grasp of this truth is his weapon against 



MILTON. 163 

the prelates. He celebrates in the martyrs, " the 
unresistible might of weakness." He told the 
bishops that " instead of showing the reason of 
their lowly condition from divine example and 
command, they seek to prove their high preemi- 
nence from human consent and authority." He 
advises that in country places, rather than to 
trudge many miles to a church, public worship 
be maintained nearer home, as in a house or barn. 
" For, notwithstanding the gaudy superstition of 
some still devoted ignorantly to temples, we may 
be well assured, that he who disdained not to be 
born in a manger, disdains not to be preached in 
a barn." And the following passage, in the " Rea- 
son of Church Government," indicates his own 
perception of the doctrine of humility. "Albeit 
I must confess to be half in doubt whether I 
should bring it forth or no, it being so contrary 
to the eye of the world, that I shall endanger 
either not to be regarded, or not to be understood. 
For who is there, almost, that measures wisdom 
by simplicity, strength by suffering, dignity by 
lowliness?" Obeying this sentiment, Milton de- 
served the apostrophe of Wordsworth: 

" Piu'e as the naked heavens, majestic, free, 
So didst thou travel on life's common way 
In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart 
The lowliest duties on itself did lay. " 



164 MILTON. 

He laid on himself the lowliest duties. Johnson 
petulantly taunts Milton with " great promise and 
small performance," in returning from Italy be- 
cause his country was in danger, and then opening 
a private school. Milton, wiser, felt no absurdity 
in this conduct. He returned into his revolution- 
ized country, and assumed an honest and useful 
task, by which he might serve the state daily, 
whilst he launched from time to time his formid- 
able bolts against the enemies of liberty. He felt 
the heats of that " love " which " esteems no office 
mean. " He compiled a logic for boys ; he wrote 
a grammar ; and devoted much of his time to the 
preparing of a Latin dictionary. But the religious 
sentiment warmed his writings and conduct with 
the highest affection of faith. The memorable 
covenant, which in his youth, in the second book 
of the " Reason of Church Government," he makes 
with God and his reader, expressed the faith of his 
old age. For the first time since many ages, the in- 
vocations of the Eternal Spirit in the commence- 
ment of his books are not poetic forms, but are 
thoughts, and so are still read with delight. His 
views of choice of profession, and choice in mar- 
riage, equally expect a divine leading. 

Thus chosen, by the felicity of his nature and of 
his breeding, for the clear perception of all that is 
graceful and all that is great in man, Milton was 



MILTON. 165 

not less happy in his times. His birth fell upon 
the agitated years when the discontents of the 
English Puritans were fast drawing to a head 
against the tyranny of the Stuarts. No period 
has surj)assed that in the general activity of mind. 
It is said that no opinion, no civil, religious, moral 
dogma can be produced, that was not broached in 
the fertile brain of that age. Questions that in- 
volve all social and personal rights were hasting to 
be decided by the sword, and were searched by eyes 
to which the love of freedom, civil and religious, 
lent new illumination. Milton, gentle, learned, 
delicately bred in all the elegancy of art and learn- 
ing, was set down in England in the stern, almost 
fanatic society of the Puritans. The part he took, 
the zeal of his fellowship, make us acquainted with 
the greatness of his spirit as in tranquil times we 
could not have known it. Susceptible as Burke to 
the attractions of historical prescription, of royalty, 
of chivalry, of an ancient church illustrated by old 
martyrdoms and installed in cathedrals, — he threw 
himseK, the flower of elegancy, on the side of the 
reeking conventicle ; the side of humanity, but un- 
learned and unadorned. His muse was brave and 
humane, as well as sweet. He felt the dear love of 
native land and native language. The humanity 
which warms his pages begins as it should, at home. 
He preferred his own English, so manlike he was, 



166 MILTON, 

to the Latin, which contained all the treasures of 
his memory. " My mother bore me," he said, " a 
speaker of what God made mine own, and not a 
translator." He told the Parliament, that " the 
imprimaturs of Lambeth House had been writ in 
Latin ; for that our English, the language of men 
ever famous and foremost in the achievements of 
liberty, will not easily find servile letters enow to 
spell such a dictatory presumption." At one time 
he meditated wTiting a poem on the settlement of 
Britain, and a history of England was one of the 
three main tasks which he proposed to liimseK. 
He proceeded in it no further than to the Conquest. 
He studied with care the character of his country- 
men, and once in the " History," and once again 
in the " Eeason of Church Government," he has 
recorded his judgment of the English genius. 

Thus dra^^^l into the gTcat controversies of the 
times, in them he is never lost in a party. His 
private opinions and private conscience always dis- 
tinguish him. That which drew him to the party 
was his love of liberty, ideal liberty ; this there- 
fore he could not sacrifice to any party. Toland 
teUs us, "As he looked upon true and absolute 
freedom to be the greatest happiness of this life, 
whether to societies or single person^, so he thought 
constraint of any sort to be the utmost ml:>e:T ; for 
which reason he used to teU those about him the 



MILTON. 167 

entire satisfaction of his mind, that he had con- 
stantly employed his strength and faculties in the 
defence of liberty, and in direct opposition to slav- 
ery. " Truly he was an apostle of freedom ; of free- 
dom in the house, in the state, in the church ; free- 
dom of speech, freedom of the press, yet in his own 
mind discriminated from savage license, because 
that which he desired was the liberty of the wise 
man, containing itself in the limits of virtue. He 
pushed, as far as any in that democratic age, his 
ideas of civil liberty. He proposed to establish a 
republic, of which the federal power was weak and 
loosely defined, and the substantial power should 
remain with primary assemblies. He maintained, 
that a nation may try, judge, and slay their king, 
if he be a tyrant. He pushed as far his views of 
ecclesiastical liberty. He taught the doctrine of 
unlimited toleration. One of his tracts is writ to 
prove that no power on earth can compel in mat- 
ters of religion. He maintained the doctrine of 
literary liberty, denouncing the censorship of the 
press, and insisting that a book shall come into the 
world as freely as a man, so only it bear the name 
of author or printer, and be responsible for itself 
like a man. He maintained the doctrine of domes- 
tic liberty, or the liberty of divorce, on the ground 
that unfit disposition of mind was a better reason 
for the act of divorce than infirmity of body, wliich 



168 MILTON. 

was srood jn'ound in law. The tracts he wi'ote on 
these topics are, for the most part, as fresh and per- 
tinent tLMlay as they were then. The events whieh 
pi-odueed them, the practical issues to which thoy 
tend, ai*e mere occasions for this philanthropist to 
blow his trumpet for human rights. They are all 
varied applications of one principle, the liberty of 
the wise man. lie sought absolute tvurli, not ac- 
commodating truth. His opinions on all subjects 
ai-e formed for man as he ought to be, for a nation 
of Miltons. He would be divorced when he finds 
in his consort unfit disposition ; knowing that he 
should not abuse that liberty, because >>'ith his 
whole heart he abhors licentiousness and loves chas- 
tity. He defends the slaying of the king, because 
a king is a king no longer than he gx)verns by the 
laws ; '* it woidd be right to kill Philip of Spain 
making an inroad into England, and what right 
the king of Spain hath to govern us at all, the 
same hath the king Charles to govern tyrannically." 
He would remove hii*elings out of the chui*ch, and 
support preachers by voluntary contributions ; re- 
quiring that such only should preach as have faith 
enough to accept so seK-denying and pi*eearious a 
mcKle of life, scorning to take thought for the 
aspects of prudence and expediency. The most de- 
vout man of his time, he frequented no chuivh ; 
probably from a disgust at the fierce spirit of the 



.V//.7YXV. 169 

pulpitis. And so, throughout all his actions and 
opinions, is ho a consistont spiritualist, or believer 
in the (>nniipoteneo of spiritual laws. lie wished 
(hat his writings should bo connnuuieated only to 
those who desired to see them, lie thought noth- 
ing honest was low. lie thought he could bo fa- 
mous only in proportion as he enjoyed the appro- 
bation of the good. He admonished his friend 
*'not to admire military prowess, or tilings in 
which force is of most avail. For it would not be 
matter of rational woiuler, if the wethers of our 
country should be born with horns that could bat- 
ter down cities and towns. Learn to estimate great 
characters, not by the amount of animal strength, 
but by the habituiil justice and temperance of their 
conduct." 

Was there not a fitness in the undertaking of 
such a person to write a poem on the subject of 
Adam, the first man ? l>y his sympathy with all 
nature ; by the proportion of his powers ; by great 
knowledge, and by religion, he would reascend to 
the height from which our nature is supposed to 
have descended. From a just knowledge of what 
man should be, he described what he was. He 
behohls him as he walked in Eden : — 

" His fair largo front and oyo siiWiiuo deelai'eil 
Absolute rule ; ami hyacinthiiie looks 
Round from his parted forelock manly himg 
Clustorino-, Init not bonoath his sboiildors broaJ." 



170 M It. TON. 

Ami llu> Houl of (Ills tliviiu^ cnMiliiro 1h (^x<'(^1I«miI an 
liis lorni. TIh^ Ioiu^ oT IiIm (li()ii<;lil, niul pjiMsioii in 
lis lionltliriil, MM rv«'ii, nii<l ns vi<;4>i'(>uM, iiM iM^iits (lif 
now niid |MM'IV(*|. m«nl(>l of n incc* of ''^oiIm. 

'riu^ |K^rr(*pli(»M \v«' linvo nMiilmlxMl lo Milloii, ol' 
n |Mnrr Idi^nl <»l Imnninily, modirHvs liis |»o(<(,lr ^.n^w- 
iiiM. iMu' iM.iii is paniiuoinit i<» llio |)0(>t. II'im 
Immcv is uov(M" 1 i'mikkmmkNmH., j^\I i:iv.i;;niil ; Iml, nn 
HjumhTm iiun|;inalioii was .said l<> bo '' tlu^ nohlosl. 
thai (>V(M* (M)M(oiitrd itsoir io inini.siiM' to i luMindtM*- 
H(audlM<>/' MO Milton's iiilnisiors j,o tli(> clianuMt^r. 
Millon's .sMhiiiin'Ml. ,somi»;, Imisl'ni;; into li('a\<*n willi 
its poals oi" nu^iotrnuis lliiinilcM*, is llu^ voict^ oT Mil- 
ton still. Indisul, lliroiiL;liont his poonis, on(> nniy 
H(M^ nndtM- a tliin voil, ilu^ opinlouH, tlu> fiMding's, ommi 
tlu> inoidonts oi' (lie poet's lil'o, still roappt^aiiii!;'. 
Tho Honn«^ts ar»* all occasional pt»cn»s. " I / \ llc^ro" 
aiul '' II l*cns(M*oso" ar(^ luit Ji liner antol)i«»!;rapliy 
of his yoiiiMid iMUcics al llaii'Tudd; tlu^ '"■ ( \Mnns " 
ii tniiiMcript, in charmin;^' mnnlxMs, of that philoso- 
phy of chastily, which, in tla^ " Ap«)lo!;v I'oi- SnuH^- 
lyininnis," and in tlu^ '' lu\Mson <»! (Mnirch (JovtM'U- 
nuMii," lu^ (h^clarcs to he his dej'cnsc^ anil r«>li«;'i(m. 
Tlu^ '* Samson A^'onistivs *' is loo hroa«l an i^xproH- 
Hion of his pi'ivat<^ grit^fs lo h(^ niistaluMi, and is a. 
vtM'sion ol" th»> " noctrini^and I>isciplin(^ of l>ivorc(\" 
'rh(> most alT«H'tin!V passa!;es in " l*aradis(> liost" 
ar(^ personal allnsions ; and, w lu'n w<^ ar(> ("airly in 



Mii/roN. Ill 

fOdcri, A<l;uri and Milt-on wvci <)f'l,('n (llf'fi(!iilf, to ho 
H<'-[);ir;i,l,«',(|. A^aln, in '' I'jinidiHc? Uogaincjl," w(5 
liavc, \,\m', rrioHl, (llHtincf, fri.'uKH ol" ilio i)ro^r(!HH of 
lJ»c, )mm!I,'m Miiiid, in iJic rcvifiion .-uid <.Ml;ir('<rii<ii(, of 
IiIh I'cJj^ioiiH (>|)ini(>nH. TIiIh may hn tlioii^lil. to 
.•d> fid ;.';<'- fiin [hjukcmh a juxit. It in tnujof llorncrand 
Sli.'d<s|)('.'uc, t!i;i,t tln-y do not appcjir in tlx-Jr pocniH; 
tli;i,(, (Jioic jjrodiMioiiH ^oninHOH di<l vAmi tli<;niH<dv(!H 
HO tot;dly ijil,o l\u'\v Hon^, tlj;i,t tlicir indivi<lij;dity 
vjiniHlicM, ;uid tli<; j)0(',t towoi'H l/O tli(; nKy, wliilHt tlio 
nijui (jiiit<< (liH.'ippc.'iiH. '^rii(5 fact in rri<!inoni,l)l<!. 
Sh.'ill w<i H.'iy tli:i,l, in our- .'idniir.'ition ,'i,nd joy in tlw;H(5 
wondri lid )»oc,ni;i w<- li.'ivo <',v(;n ;i, }«;(din^ of rc|^r'<;t 
that tlw5 men hnc.w not whnt th<;y did ; that tfi<;y 
w<*,f<*, too ();iHHiv<t in th<*,ir ^n-,at wjvicn ; w«'-»<'- c.h.'in- 
iu-Jm throHj^h whi<'h Htrc.aniK ol th<»uf'ht Mowed Ironi 
a hi^ficr houhm;, whi<;h they did not ;i.j)|»ro|nI;i,t<', did 
not hhtfjd with their own fx-inK ? I^ike |»ro[)he,tH, 
tli<^y Hce.rn hut inijX'.rlVctly awjirc. of the, iiri|>ort of 
thejr own iittorancoH. We, he-ijtate, to H;i,y Kneh 
thin^';;<, ;uid H;i,y the.m only to the, nnphjaHiri^ (h(;i,liHrn, 
wh<;n tfi(5 man ;i,nd the, poet hIiow lilui a doufde, cori- 
HeiouHn<',HH. l*e,rli;ipH we H[)e,;il{ to no f;ie,t, hut to 
irnrn; faf)h;H, of ;ui idh-. mendi(!;uit Ih>nie,r, .'ind of u, 
ShaltHpearo (joritcnt witli a mea/i .'uid joeuh'u* w;i,y 
of life,. |>e, it lir>w it may, tlie ^eniuH and office, of 
Mih,on w(;r(; different, njune.ly, to JiHeefid hy the, aidrt 
of hJH loaniiri^ and liin religion, hy an (Miiial per- 



172 MILTON. 

ception, that is, of tlie past and the future, — to a 
higher insight and more lively delineation of the 
heroic life of man. This was his poem ; whereof all 
his indignant pamphlets and all his soaring verses 
are only single cantos or detached stanzas. It was 
plainly needful that his poetry should be a version 
of his own life, in order to give weight and solem- 
nity to his thoughts ; by which they might penetrate 
and possess the imagination and the will of man- 
kind. The creations of Shakspeare are cast into 
the world of thought to no further end than to de- 
light. Their intrinsic beauty is their excuse for 
being. Milton, fired " with dearest charity to in- 
fuse the knowledge of good things into others," 
tasked his giant imagination and exhausted the 
stores of his intellect for an end beyond, namely, 
to teach. His own conviction it is which gives such 
authority to liis strain. Its reality is its force. If 
out of the heart it came, to the heart it must go. 
What schools and epochs of common rhymers would 
it need to make a counterbalance to the severe or- 
acles of his muse : 

" In them is plainest taught and easiest learnt, 
What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so." 

The lover of Milton reads one sense in his prose 
and in his metrical compositions ; and sometimes 
the muse soars highest in the former, because the 
thought is more sincere. Of his prose in general, 



MILTON. 173 

not the style alone but tlie argument also is poetic ; 
according to Lord Bacon's definition of poetry, fol- 
lowing that of Aristotle, " Poetry, not finding the 
actual world exactly conformed to its idea of good 
and fair, seeks to accommodate the shows of things 
to the desires of the mind, and to create an ideal 
world better than the world of experience." Such 
certainly is the explanation of Milton's tracts. 
Such is the apology to be entered for the plea for 
freedom of divorce ; an essay, which, from the first 
until now, has brought a degree of obloquy on his 
name. It was a sally of the extravagant spirit of 
the time, overjoyed, as in the French Revolution, 
with the sudden victories it had gained, and eager 
to carry on the standard of truth to new heights. 
It is to be regarded as a poem on one of the griefs 
of man's condition, namely, unfit marriage. And 
as many poems have been written upon unfit society, 
commending solitude, yet have not been proceeded 
against, though their end was hostile to the state ; 
so should this receive that charity which an angelic 
soul, suffering more keenly than others from the 
unavoidable evils of human life, is entitled to. 

"We have offered no apology for expanding to 
such length our commentary on the character of 
John Milton ; who, in old age, in solitude, in neg- 
lect, and blind, wrote the Paradise Lost ; a man 
whom labor or danger never deterred from what- 



174 MIITON. 

over (ilTortH a lovci of ilic siipromo interests of 
lunii ])roin])t(Ml. For Jii'e wo not tlie ])eit('r ; are 
not all men fortified by the rcniembranee of the 
l)i*av(;ry, the ])nrity, the teniperanco, the toil, the in- 
(l('j)('ii(l('n('(^ and tlit^ :ini;clie devotion of this man, 
wiio, in a rcivohiiionaiy age, lahin^' eounsel only 
of himself, endeavored, in his writings and in liis 
life, to carry out the life of man to new heights of 
spiriliial grace and dignity, without any abatement 
of its strength ? 



PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 



The tongue is prone to lose the way ; 

Not so the pen, for in a letter 
We have not })etter things to say, 

But surely say them better. 



PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE.i 

In our fidelity to the higher truth we need not 
disown our debt, in our actual state of culture, in 
the twilights of experience, to these rude helpers. 
They keep alive the memory and the hope of a 
better day. When we flout all particular books as 
initial merely, we truly express the privilege of 
spiritual nature, but alas, not the fact and fortune 
of this low Massachusetts and Boston, of these 
humble Junes and Decembers of mortal life. Our 
soids are not self -fed, but do eat and drink of chem- 
ical water and wheat. Let us not forget the genial 
miraculous force we have known to proceed from 
a book. We go musing into the vault of day and 
night; no constellation shines, no muse descends, 
the stars are white points, the roses, brick-colored 
leaves, and frogs pipe, mice cheep, and wagons 
creak along the road. We return to the house 
and take up Plutarch or Augustine, and read a 
few sentences or pages, and lo ! the air swims with 
1 The Dial, vol. i. p. 137. 



178 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

life, secrets of magnanimity and grandeur invite us 
on every hand, life is made up of them. Such is 
our debt to a book. Observe moreover that we 
ought to credit literature with much more than the 
bare word it gives us. I have just been reading 
poems which now in memory shine with a certain 
steady, warm, autumnal light. That is not in their 
grammatical construction which they give me. If 
I analyze the sentences it eludes me, but is the 
genius and suggestion of the whole. Over every 
true poem lingers a certain wild beauty, immeasur- 
able ; a happiness lightsome and delicious fills the 
heart and brain, as they say every man walks envir- 
oned by his proper atmosphere, extending to some 
distance around him. This beautiful result must 
be credited to literature also in casting its account. 
In looking at the library of the Present Age, we 
are first struck with the fact of the immense mis- 
cellany. It can hardly be characterized by any 
species of book, for every opinion, old and new, 
every hope and fear, every whim and folly has an 
organ. It exhibits a vast carcass of tradition every 
year with as much solemnity as a new revelation. 
Along with these it vents books that breathe of 
new morning, that seem to heave with the life of 
millions, books for which men and women peak 
and pine ; books which take the rose out of the 
cheek of him that wrote them, and give him to the 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE. 179 

midnight a sad, solitary, diseased man ; which 
leave no man where they found him, but make him 
better or worse ; and which work dubiously on so- 
ciety and seem to inoculate it with a venom before 
any healthy result appears. 

In order to any complete view of the literature 
of the present age, an inquiry should include what 
it quotes, what it writes and what it wishes to write. 
In our present attempt to enumerate some traits of 
the recent literature, we shall have somewhat to 
offer on each of these topics, but we cannot prom- 
ise to set in very exact order what we have to say. 

In the first place it has all books. It reprints 
the wisdom of the world. How can the age be a 
bad one which gives me Plato and Paul and 
Plutarch, St. Augustine, Spinoza, Chapman, Beau- 
mont and Fletcher, Donne and Sir Thomas 
Browne, beside its own riches ? Our presses groan 
every year with new editions of all the select pieces 
of the first of mankind, — meditations, history, 
classifications, opinions, epics, lyrics, which the age 
adopts by quoting them. If we should designate 
favorite studies in which the age delights more 
than in the rest of this great mass of the permanent 
literature of the human race, one or two instances 
would be conspicuous. First ; the prodigious 
growth and influence of the genius of Shakspeare, 
in the last one hundred and fifty years, is itself a 



180 rAPERS FROM THE DfAL. 

fact of the first importance. It almost alone has 
called out the genius of the German nation into an 
activity wliich sprc^ading from the poetic into the 
scientific, religious and pliilosophical domains, has 
made theirs now at last the paramount intellectual 
influence of the world, reacting with great energy 
on England and America. And thus, and not by 
mechanical diffusion, does an original genius work 
and spread himself. 

The poetiy and speculation of the age are 
marked by a certain philosophic turn, which dis- 
criminates them from the works of earlier times. 
The poet is not content to see how " Fair hangs the 
apple from the rock," " What music a sunbeam 
awoke in the groves," nor of Ilardiknute, how 
" Stately steppes he east the way, and stately 
steppes he west," but he now revolves. What is 
the apple to me ? and what the birds to me ? and 
what is Ilardiknute to me ? and what am I ? 
And this is called subjectiveness, as the eye is with- 
drawn from the object and fixed on the subject or 
mind. 

We can easily concede that a steadfast tendency 
of this sort appears in modern literature. It is 
the new consciousness of the one mind, which j^re- 
dominates in criticism. It is the uprise of the soul, 
and not the decline. It is founded on that insati- 
able demand for unity, the need to recognize one 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE. 181 

nature in all the variety of objects, which always 
characterizes a genius of the first order. Accus- 
tomed always to behold the presence of the universe 
in every part, the soul will not condescend to look 
at any new part as a stranger, but saith, — "I 
know all already, and what art thou? Show me 
thy relations to me, to all, and I will entertain thee 
also." 

There is a pernicious ambiguity in the use of the 
term stihjective. We say, in accordance with the 
general view I have stated, that the single soul 
feels its right to be no longer confounded with 
numbers, but itself to sit in judgment on history 
and literature, and to summon all facts and parties 
before its tribunal. And in this sense the age is 
subjective. 

But, in all ages, and now more, the narrow-minded 
have no interest in anything but in its relation to 
their personality. What will help them to be de- 
livered from some burden, eased in some circum- 
stance, flattered or pardoned or enriched ; what will 
help to marry or to divorce them, to prolong or to 
sweeten life, is sure of their interest ; and nothing 
else. Every fonn under the whole heaven they be- 
hold in this most partial light or darkness of in- 
tense selfishness, imtil we hate their being. And 
this habit of intellectual selfishness has acquired in 
our day the fine name of subjectiveness. 



182 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

Nor is the distinction between these two habits 
to be found in the circumstance of using the first 
person singular, or reciting facts and feelings of 
personal history. A man may say I, and never 
refer to himself as an individual ; and a man may 
recite passages of his life with no feeling of ego- 
tism. Nor need a man have a vicious subjective- 
ness because he deals in abstract propositions. 

But the criterion which discriminates these two 
habits in the poet's mind is the tendency of his 
composition ; namely, whether it leads us to na- 
tm-e, or to the person of the writer. The great al- 
ways introduce us to facts ; small men introduce us 
always to themselves. The great man, even whilst 
he relates a private fact personal to him, is really 
leading us away from him to an imiversal experi- 
ence. His own affection is in nature, in what is, 
and, of course, all his communication leads out- 
ward to it, starting from whatsoever point. The 
o-reat never with their own consent become a load 
on the minds they instruct. The more they draw 
us to them, the farther from them or more inde- 
pendent of them we are, because they have brought 
us to the knowledge of somewhat deeper than both 
them and us. The gTcat never hinder us ; for 
their activity is coincident mth the sun and moon, 
with the course of the rivers and of the winds, with 
the sti'eam of laborers in the street and with all 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE. 183 

the activity and well-being of the race. The great 
lead us to nature, and in our age to metaphysical 
nature, to the invisible awful facts, to moral ab- 
stractions, which are not less nature than is a river 
or a coal-mine, — nay, they are far more nature, — 
but its essence and soul. 

But the weak and wicked, led also to analyze, 
saw nothing in thought but luxury. Thought for 
the selfish became selfish. They invited us to con- 
template nature, and showed us an abominable self. 
Would you know the genius of the writer ? Do 
not enumerate his talents or his feats, but ask thy- 
self. What spirit is he of ? Do gladness and hope 
and fortitude flow from his page into thy heart? 
Has he led thee to nature because his own soul was 
too haj)py in beholding her power and love ? Or is 
his passion for the wilderness only the sensibility 
of the sick, the exhibition of a talent which only 
shines whilst you praise it ; which has no root in 
the character, and can thus minister to the vanity 
but not to the happiness of the possessor ; and 
which derives all its eclat from our conventional 
education, but would not make itself intelligible to 
the wise man of another age or country? The 
water we wash with never speaks of itself, nor does 
fire or wind or tree. Neither does the noble nat- 
ural man : he yields himself to your occasion and 
use, but his act expresses a reference to universal 
srood. 



184 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

Another element of the modern poetry akin to 
this subjective tendency, or rather the direction of 
that same on the question of resources, is the Feel- 
ing of the Infinite. Of the perception now fast be- 
coming a conscious fact, — that there is One Mind, 
and that all the powers and privileges which lie in 
any, lie in all ; that I as a man may claim and ap- 
propriate whatever of true or fair or good or strong 
has anywhere been exhibited ; that Moses and Con- 
fucius, Montaigne and Leibnitz are not so much in- 
dividuals as they are parts of man and parts of me, 
and my intelligence proves them my own, — litera- 
ture is far the best expression. It is true, this is 
not the only nor the obvious lesson it teaches. A 
selfish commerce and government have caught the 
eye and usurped the hand of the masses. It is not 
to be contested that selfishness and the senses write 
the laws under which we live, and that the street 
seems to be built and the men and women in it 
moving, not in reference to pure and grand ends, 
but rather to very short and sordid ones. Perhaps 
no considerable minority, no one man, leads a quite 
clean and lofty life. What then ? We concede in 
sadness the fact. But we say that these low cus- 
tomary ways are not all that survives in human 
beings. There is that in us which mutters, and 
that which groans, and that which triumphs, and 
that which aspires. There are facts on which men 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE. 185 

of the world superciliously smile, wliich are worth 
all their trade and politics; which drive young 
men into gardens and solitary places, and cause ex- 
travagant gestures, starts, distortions of the coun- 
tenance, and passionate exclamations ; sentiments, 
which find no aliment or language for themselves 
on the wharves, in court, or market, but which are 
soothed by silence, by darkness, by the pale stars, 
and the presence of nature. All over the modern 
world the educated and susceptible have betrayed 
their discontent with the limits of our municipal 
life, and with the poverty of our dogmas of religion 
and philosophy. They betray this impatience by 
fleeing for resource to a conversation with nature, 
which is courted in a certain moody and explor- 
ing spirit, as if they anticipated a more intimate 
vinion of man with the world than has been known 
in recent ages. Those who cannot tell what they 
desire or expect, still sigh and struggle with indefi- 
nite thoughts and vast wishes. The very child in 
the nursery prattles mysticism, and doubts and 
philosophizes. A wild striving to express a more 
inward and infinite sense characterizes the works 
of every art. The music of Beethoven is said, by 
those who understand it, to labor with vaster con- 
ceptions and aspirations than music has attempted 
before. This feeling of the Infinite has deeply col- 
ored the poetry of tlie period. This new love of 



186 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

the vast, always native in Germany, was imported 
into France by De Stael, appeared in England in 
Coleridge, Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, Felicia 
Hemans, and finds a most genial climate in the 
American mind. Scott and Crabbe, who formed 
themselves on the past, had none of this tendency ; 
their poetry is objective. In Byron, on the other 
hand, it predominates ; but in Byron it is blind, it 
sees not its true end — an infinite good, alive and 
beautiful, a life nourished on absolute beatitudes, 
descending into nature to behold itself reflected 
there. His will is perverted, he worships the acci- 
dents of society, and his praise of nature is thiev- 
ing and selfish. 

Nothing certifies the prevalence of this taste in 
the people more than the circulation of the poems, 
— one would say most incongruously united by 
some bookseller, — of Coleridge, Shelley and Keats. 
The only unity is in the subjectiveness and the as- 
piration common to the three wiiters. Shelley, 
though a poetic mind, is never a poet. His muse 
is uniformly imitative; all his poems composite. 
A good English scholar he is, with ear, taste, and 
memory ; nuich more, he is a character full of noble 
and prophetic traits ; but imagination, the original, 
authentic fire of the bard, he has not. He is 
clearly modern, and shares with Eichter, Chateau- 
briand, Manzoni and Wordsworth, the feeling of 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE. 187 

the infinite, which so labors for expression in their 
different genius. But all his lines are arbitrary, 
not necessary. When we read poetry, the mind 
asks, — Was this verse one of twenty which the au- 
thor miglit have written as well ; or is this what 
that man was created to say? But, whilst every 
line of the true poet will be genuine, he is in a 
boundless power and freedom to say a million 
things. And the reason why he can say one thing 
well, is because his vision extends to the sight of 
all things, and so he describes each as one who 
knows many and all. 

The fame of Wordsworth is a leading fact in 
modern literature, when it is considered how hos- 
tile his genius at first seemed to the reigning taste, 
and with what limited poetic talents his great and 
steadily growing dominion has been established. 
More than any poet his success has been not his 
own but that of the idea which he shared with his 
coevals, and which he has rarely succeeded in ade- 
quately expressing. The Excursion awakened in 
every lover of Nature the right feeling. We saw 
stars shine, we felt the awe of mountains, we heard 
the rustle of the wind in the grass, and knew again 
the ineffable secret of solitude. It was a great joy. 
It was nearer to Nature than anything we had be- 
fore. But the interest of the poem ended almost 
with the narrative of the influences of Nature on 



188 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

the mind of the Boy, in the First Book. Obviously 
for that i)assag'0 the i)oeni was written, and with the 
exception of this and of a few strains of the like 
character in the sequel, the whole poem was dull. 
Here was no poem, but here was poetry, and a sure 
index where the subtle nuise was about to pitch her 
tent and find the argument of her song. It was 
the human soul in these last ages striving for a 
just publication of itseK. Add to tliis, however, 
the great praise of Wordsworth, that more than 
any other contemporary bard he is pervaded with 
a reverence of somewhat higher than (conscious) 
thought. There is in him that property conunon 
to all great poets, a wisdom of humanity, which is 
superior to any talents which they exert. It is the 
wisest part of Shakspeare and of Milton. For they 
are poets by the free course which they allow to 
the informing soul, which through their eyes be- 
holdeth again and blesseth the things which it hath 
made. The soul is superior to its knowledge, wiser 
than any of its works. 

With the name of AVordsworth rises to our re- 
collection the name of liis contemi)orary and friend, 
Walter Savage Landor — a man working in a very 
different and peculiar spirit, yet one whose genius 
and accomplishments deserve a wiser criticism than 
we have yet seen applied to them, and the rather 
that his name does not readily associate itself with 



THOUGHTS ON MODFJiN LITERATURE. 189 

any school of writers. Of Thomas Carlylo, alsi>, wt^ 
shall say nothing;- at this time, since the quality and 
eiun*«;y of liis intinenee on the yonth of this country 
will require at our hands, erelong, a distinct and 
faitlifnl acknowledgment. 

Hut of all men he who has united in himself, and 
that in the most extraordinary degree, the tenden- 
cies of the era, is tlie Cirerman poet, naturalist and 
i)hilosopher, Goethe. Whatever the age inherited 
or invented, he made his own. He has owed to 
Connnerce and to the victories of the Understand- 
ing, all their spoils. Sui'h was liis capacity, that the 
magazines of the world's ancient or modern wealth, 
which arts and intercourse and skepticism could 
conunand, — he wanted them all. Had thert> been 
twice so much, he i*ould have used it as well. Ge- 
ologist, meduuiic, meit^uint, chemist, king, radical, 
painter, conq^oser, — all worked for him, and a 
thousand men seemed to look through his eyes. Ho 
learned as readily as other men breathe. Of all 
the men of this time, not one has seemed so nuich 
at home in it as he. He was not afraid to live. 
And in him this encyclopaHlia of facts, which it has 
been the boast of tlie age to conq>ile, wrought an 
equal eft'ect. He was knowing ; he was brave ; he 
was clean from all narrowness ; he has a perfect pro- 
priety and taste, — a quality by no means connnon 
to tlie Germmi writers. Nay, since the earth as we 



190 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

said had become a reading-room, the new opportu- 
nities seem to have aided him to be that resolute 
realist he is, and seconded his sturdy determination 
to see things for what they are. To look at him 
one would say there was never an observer before. 
What sagacity, what industry of observation. To 
read his record is a frugality of time, for you shall 
find no word that does not stand for a. thing, and 
he is of that comprehension which can see the value 
of truth. His love of Nature has seemed to give a 
new meaning to that word. There was never man 
more domesticated in this world than he. And he 
is an apology for the analytic spirit of the period, 
because, of his analysis, always wholes were the re- 
sult. All conventions, all traditions he rejected. 
And yet he felt his entire right and duty to stand 
before and try and judge every fact in nature. He 
thought it necessary to dot round with his own pen 
the entire sphere of knowables ; and for many of 
his stories, this seems the only reason : Here is a 
piece of humanity I had hitherto omitted to 
sketch ; — take this. He does not say so in sylla- 
bles, — yet a sort of conscientious feeling he had to 
be up to the universe, is the best account and apol- 
ogy for many of them. He shared also the subjee- 
tiveness of the age, and that too in both the senses 
I have discriminated. With the sharpest eye for 
form, color, botany, engraving, medals, persons and 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE. 191 

manners, he never stopped at surface, but pierced 
the purpose of a thing and studied to reconcile that 
purpose with his own being. What he could so 
reconcile was good ; what he could not, was false. 
Hence a certain greatness encircles every fact he 
treats ; for to him it has a soul, an eternal reason 
why it was so, and not otherwise. This is the se- 
cret of that deep realism, which went about among 
all objects he beheld, to find the cause why they 
must be what they are. It was with him a favorite 
task to find a theory of every institution, custom, 
art, work of art, which he observed. Witness his 
explanation of the Italian mode of reckoning the 
hours of the day, as growing out of the Italian cli- 
mate ; of the obelisk of Egypt, as growing out of a 
common natural fracture in the granite parallelo- 
piped in Upper Egypt ; of the Doric architecture, 
and the Gothic ; of the Venetian music of the gon- 
dolier, originating in the habit of the fishers' wives 
of the Lido singing on shore to their husbands 
on the sea ; of the amphitheatre, which is the en- 
closure of the natural cup of heads that arranges 
itself round every spectacle in the street ; of the 
coloring of Titian and Paul Veronese, which one 
may verify in common daylight in Venice every af- 
ternoon ; of the Carnival at Kome ; of the domestic 
riu'al architecture in Italy ; and many the like ex- 
amples. 



192 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

But also that other vicious subjectiveness, that 
vice of the time, infected him also. We are pro- 
voked with his Olympian self-complacency, the pat- 
ronizing air with which he vouchsafes to tolerate 
the genius and performances of other mortals, " the 
good Hiller," " our excellent Kant," " the friendly 
Wieland," &c. Sea. There is a good letter from 
Wieland to Merck, in which Wieland relates that 
Goethe read to a select party his journal of a tour 
in Switzerland with the Grand Duke, and their pas- 
sage through the Yallais and over the St. Gothard. 
" It was, " says Wieland, " as good as Xenophon's 
Anabasis. The piece is one of his most masterly 
productions, and is thought and written with the 
greatness peculiar to him. The fair hearers were 
enthusiastic at the nature in this piece ; I liked the 
sly art in the composition, whereof they saw noth- 
ing, still better. It is a true poem, so concealed is 
the art too. But what most remarkably in this, as in 
all his other works, distinguishes him from Homer 
and Shakspeare, is, that the Me, the Ille ego^ 
everywhere glimmers through, although without any 
boasting and with an infinite fineness." This subtle 
element of egotism in Goethe certainly does not 
seem to deform his compositions, but to lower the 
moral influence of the man. He differs from aU the 
great in the total want of frankness. Who saw Mil- 
ton, who saw Shakspeare, saw them do their best, 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE, 193 

and utter their whole heart manlike among their 
brethren. No man was permitted to call Goethe 
brother. He hid himself, and worked always to 
astonish, which is egotism, and therefore little. 

If we try Goethe by the ordinary canons of criti- 
cism, we should say that his thinking is of great 
altitude, and all level ; not a succession of summits, 
but a high Asiatic table -land. Dramatic power, 
the rarest talent in literature, he has very little. 
He has an eye constant to the fact of life and that 
never pauses in its advance. But the great felici- 
ties, the miracles of poetry, he has never. It is 
all design with him, just thought and instructed 
expression, analogies, allusion, illustration, which 
knowledge and correct thinking supply ; but of 
Shakspeare and the transcendent muse, no syllable. 
Yet in the court and law to which we ordinarily 
speak, and without adverting to absolute standards, 
we claim for him the praise of truth, of fidelity to 
his intellectual nature. He is the king of all schol- 
ars. In these days and in this country, where the 
scholars are few and idle, where men read easy 
books and sleep after dinner^ it seems as if no book 
could so safel}^ be put in the hands of young men 
as the letters of Goethe, which attest the incessant 
activity of this man, to eighty years, in an endless 
variety of studies, with uniform cheerfulness and 
greatness of mind. They cannot be read without 



194 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

shaming us into an emulating industry. Let him 
have the praise of the love of truth. We think, 
when we contemplate the stupendous glory of 
the world, that it were life enough for one man 
merely to lift his hands and cry with St. Augus- 
tine, " Wrangle who pleases, I will wonder." Well, 
this he did. Here was a man who, in the feeling 
that the thing itself was so admirable as to leave 
all comment behind, went up and down, from ob- 
ject to object, lifting the veil from every one, and 
did no more. What he said of Lavater, may true- 
lier be said of him, that " it was fearful to stand in 
the presence of one before whom all the boundaries 
within which Nature has circumscribed our being- 
were laid flat." His are the bright and terrible 
eyes which meet the modern student in every 
sacred chapel of thought, in every public enclosure. 
But now, that we may not seem to dodge the 
question which all men ask, nor pay a great man 
so ill a compliment as to praise him only in the 
conventional and comparative speech, let us hon- 
estly record our thought upon the total worth and 
influence of this genius. Does he represent, not 
only the achievement of that age in which he lived, 
but that which it would be and is now becoming ? 
And what shall we think of that absence of the 
moral sentiment, that singular equivalence to him 
of good and evil in action, which discredit his com- 



THOUGHTS ON MODERN LITERATURE. 195 

positions to the pure ? The spirit of his biograpliy, 
of his poems, of his tales, ie identieal, and we may 
here set down hy way of comment on liis genius the 
impressions recently awakened in us by the story 
of Wilhelm Meister. 

All great men have written proiully, nor cared 
to explain. They knew that the intelligent reader 
would come at last, and would thank them. So 
did Dante, so did Machiavel. Goethe has done 
this in INIeister. We can fancy him saying to him- 
self : — There are poets enough of the Ideal ; let 
me paint the Actual, as, after years of dreams, it 
will still api)ear and reappear to wise men. That 
all shall right itself in the long Morrow, I may 
well allow, and my novel may wait for the same 
regeneration. The age, that can danni it as ftUse 
and falsifying, will see that it is deeply one with 
the genius and history of all the centuries. I have 
given my characters a bias to error. Men have 
the same. I have let mischance befall instead of 
good fortune. They do so daily. And out of many 
vices and misfortunes, I have let a great success 
grow, as I had known in my own and many other 
examples. Fierce churchmen and effeminate aspi- 
rants will chide and hate my name, but every keen 
beholder of life will justify my truth, and will ac- 
quit me of prejudging the causi^ of humanity by 
painting it with this morose fidelity. To a pro- 



196 PAPFES FPxOM THE DIAL. 

foimd sonl is not aiistoro truth tlio sweetest flat- 
tery? 

Yes, O Goethe ! but tlie ideal is truer than the 
aetu:il. Tliat is ephemeral, but this ehanges not. 
Moreover, beeause nature is moral, that mind only 
can see, in whieh the same order entirely obtains. 
An interehangeable Truth, Beauty and Goodness, 
eaeh wholly interfused in the other, must make the 
humors of that eye wliieh would see eauses reaehing 
to their last effeet and reprodueing the world for- 
ever. The least inequality of mixture, the exeess 
of one element over the other, in that degree duuin- 
ishes the ti*anspai*ency of thing's, makes tlie world 
opaque to the observer, and destroys so far the 
value of his experience. No particular gifts can 
countervail this defect. In reading Meister, I am 
charmed ^vith the insight ; to use a phrase of Ben 
Jonson's, '* it is rammed with life." I find there 
actual men and women even too faithfully painted. 
1 am moreover instructed in the possibility of a 
highly accomplished society, and taught to look for 
great talent and culture under a gray coat. But 
this is all. The limits of artificial society are never 
quite out of sight. The vicious conventions, which 
hem us in like prison walls and which the poet 
should explode at his touch, stand for all they are 
worth in the newspaper. AVe are never lifted 
above ourselves, we are not transported cnu ot" the 



Tuorc/rrs o.x .i/()/)/-7;.v / / rr/:.\ rr/^'r. 107 

<li>minlon o( i\\o stMist^s, or i'1uhm'(u1 willi :in Intinito 
t(Mi(l(Miu\ss, or arnuHl with a. i;raii(l trust. 

(JoiMlio, thiMi, luiist he sot tlowii as tlio poot of 
i\\c At'lual, not of tlio Idoal; (lu^ \)ovi o{ limitation, 
not of j)ossil)ility ; of this world, ami not of roli^ion 
and hopi^ : in slu>rt, if wo may say so, tho })oot of 
}>roso, and not of [n>otry. llo aoooi)ts tlu» haso doc- 
trine^ oi' Vi\{i\ and i;U\ins what strai»i;"lini>' joys niay 
yot rtMnain out o^ its ban. IK* is llki* a hankor or 
a wt^vvor with a i)assion for t ho country ; ho sttvds 
out of tho hot str(H^ts bt^l'oro snnriso, or aftor sun- 
sot, or on a ran^ holiday, to j^vt a. draft of swt^^t 
air and a i;a/o at tho mai^nilloonoo of snnunor, hut 
daros not hroak from his slavery and load a man's 
llfo in a man's ndatiou to nature. In that which 
should bo his own phioo, ho fools liko a truant, and 
is scourged back prosontly to his task and his coll. 
Poetry is with (lootho thus external, tho gildin*; of 
the chain, the mitigation of his fate ; but tho Muse 
uevtM' assays those thunder- tones wdiich cause to 
vibrate tlu^ sun and tlu^ nn>t)n, which dissipate 
by dreadful meh)ily all this in)u network of eir- 
enmstant*t\ and abolish the old heavens and the 
old earth bt^fori^ the freewill or (xodhoad o{ man. 
That (loetlu* had not a. moral p(M'C(*}>tion propor- 
tionate to his other powers, is not then merely a. 
eireumstance, as wo might relate of a man that he 
liad or had not tlio seuso of tiuio or iiu oyo foi' 



198 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

colors, but it is the cardinal fact of health or dis- 
ease ; since, lacking this, he failed in the high 
sense to be a creator, and, with divine endow- 
ments, drops by irreversible decree into the com- 
mon history of g-enins. He was content to fall into 
the track of vulgar i>oets and spend on I'ommon 
aims his splendid endowments, and has declined 
the office proffered to now and then a man in many 
centuries in the power of his g-enius, of a Redeemer 
of the human mind, lie has written better than 
other poets only as his talent was subtler, but the 
ambition of creation \w refused. Life for hiui is 
prettier, easier, wiser, decenter, has a gem or two 
more on its robe, but its old eternal burden is not 
relieved ; no drop of healthier blood tlows yet in 
its veins. Let him pass. Humanity must wait for 
its physician still at the side of the i^oad, and con- 
fess as this man gix\^ out, that they have served it 
better who assured it out of the innocent hope in 
their hearts that a Physician will come, than this 
majestic Artist, with all the treasuries of wit, of 
science, and of power at his command. 

The criticism, which is not so nuieh spoken as 
felt in i*efei*enoe to Goethe, instructs us dii-ectly in 
the hope of literatui'e. We feel that a man gifted 
like him should not leave tlie world as he found it. 
It is true, though somewhat sad, that every tine 
genius teaches lis how to blame himselt". Ikung so 



i'l/orcirrs o.v Monrhw i.irrjiArunF. 199 

much, wo cannot TorL^ivc hini lor not. bcln^ more. 
When t)nt> ot* these i;ran(l nionails is IncariiaUul 
whom natuio seems to (h'sij;ii tor internal ini»n anil 
draw to her bosom, we think that the old \veai'Iiu*ss 
of lMnH>pe and Asia, the trivial forms of daily lil\> 
will now end, and a new mornin*;" bri^ak on ns all. 
What is Austria? What is Knohmd? What Is 
our i;railuated and petritled social scale of raidvs 
and (Muplovments? Shall not a [>oet redetMu us from 
these idolatries, and }>ale their le«;endai*y bistro bo- 
foro the lirt»s of tho Divine Wisdom which burn in 
his heart ? All that in our sovereign moments eai'h 
of us has divined <">{ the powiM's of thoni;ht, all tlu> 
hints of onmipresonco and emM-i^y which we have 
can«;ht, this man should unfold, and constitutt> facts. 
And this is the insatiable craving which altt^r- 
nately saddens luid gladdens men at this day. Tlu^ 
Hoi'trine of the Life of Alan established after the 
truth through all his faculties ; — this is the thought 
which the literature of this lumr meditates and 
labors to say. This is that which tnnes tho tongue 
and tires the eye and sits in the silence of the youth. 
A^erily it will not long w^ant articulate and melodi- 
ous expression. There is nothing in the heart but 
comes piH>sently to the lips. The very depth of the 
sentiment, which is the author of all the entaneous 
life we see, is gnavantee for the riches of si'ience 
and of song in the age to conio. Ho who doubts 



200 iwrFiis FRO}/ Tin: pial. 

whether tJiis ago ov this eountiy can yiehl any (.h>u- 
trilnitlon to tho litoratuiv of the worhl, only be- 
trays his own blindness to the iieeessities of the hu- 
nitui sonl. lias the power of poetiy eeased, or the 
need? Have the eyes eeased to see that whieh 
they wonld have, anil whieh they have not? Have 
they eeased to see other eyes ? Are there no lone- 
ly, anxious, wondering ehildren, who nnist telltlieir 
tale"^ Are we not evermore whi}>ped by thoughts; 

*'lu sorrow stooped, ami stoopod in lovo 
Oi tlioughts not vot iiu'arnatod.'' 

The lieai't beats in this ag"o as of ohl, and the pas- 
sions are busy as ever. Nature has not lost one ring- 
let of her beauty, one impulse of resistaiu'e and 
valor. From the neeessity of loving none are ex- 
empt, and ho tliat loves must utter his desii*es. A 
eliarai as radiant as beauty ever beamed, a love that 
fainteth at the sight of its objeet, is new t(.>-day. 

'• The world does not niii siiioothor than of oUl, 
There are sad haps that must be tolil." 

Man is not so far lost but that he sutYers ever the 
great Disei>utent whiidi is the elegy of his loss and 
tlu' predietion of his reeoverv. In the iitiv saloon 
he laments that these tignres are not what Kaphael 
and Cuiereino painted. Withered though he stand, 
and trider though he be, the august spirit of tho 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOIt 201 

world looks out from his eyes. In his heart he 
knows the aohe of s])ivitual pain, and his thought 
can animate the sea and land. AVhat then shall 
hinder the Genius of the time from speaking its 
thought ? It cannot be silent, if it would. It will 
write in a higher spirit and a wider knowledge and 
witli a grander practical aim than ever yet guided 
the pen of poet. It will write the annals of a 
changed world, and record the descent of principles 
into practice, of love into Government, of love into 
Trade. It will describe tlie new heroic life of man, 
the now unbelieved possibility of simple living and 
of clean and noble relations with men. Religion 
will bind again these that were sometime frivolous, 
customary, enemies, skeptics, self-seekers, into a 
joyful reverence for the circumambient Whole, and 
that which was ecstacy shall become daily bread. 

11. 

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.^ 

We sometimes meet in a stage coach in New 
England an erect, muscular man, with fresh com- 
plexion and a smooth hat, whose nervous speech 
instantly betrays the English traveller ; — a man 
nowise cautious to conceal his name or that of his 
native country, or his very slight esteem for the 
persons and the country that surroimd him. When 
1 The Dial, vol. ii. p. '202. 



202 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

Mr. Bull rides in an American coach, he speaks 
quick and strong; he is very ready to confess his 
ignorance of everything about him, persons, man- 
ners, customs, politics, geography. He wonders 
that the Americans should build with wood, whilst 
all this stone is lying in the roadside ; and is aston- 
ished to learn that a wooden house may last a hun- 
dred years ; nor will he remember the fact as many 
minutes after it has been told him : he wonders 
that they do not make elder-wine and cherry- 
bounce, since here are cherries, and every mile is 
crammed with elder-bushes. He has never seen a 
good horse in America, nor a good coach, nor a 
good inn. Here is very good earth and water and 
plenty of them ; that he is free to allow ; to all 
other gifts of nature or man his eyes are sealed by 
the inexorable demand for the precise conveniences 
to which he is accustomed in England. Add to 
this proud blindness the better quality of great 
downrightness in speaking the truth, and the love 
of fair play, on all occasions, and moreover the 
peculiarity which is alleged of the Englishman, 
that his virtues do not come out until he quarrels. 

Transfer these traits to a very elegant and ac- 
complished mind, and we shall have no bad picture 
of Walter Savage Landor, who may stand as a 
favorable impersonation of the genius of his coun- 
trymen at the present day. A sharp, dogmatic 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 203 

man, witli a great deal of knowledge, a great deal 
of worth, and a great deal of pride ; with a pro- 
found contempt for all that he does not under- 
stand ; a master of all elegant learning, and capa- 
ble of the utmost delicacy of sentiment, and yet 
prone to indulge a sort of ostentation of coarse 
imagery and language. His partialities and dis- 
likes are by no means culj)able, but are often 
whimsical and amusing ; yet they are quite sincere, 
and, like those of Johnson and Coleridge, are easily 
separable from the man. What he says of Words- 
worth is true of liimseK, that he delights to throw 
a clod of dirt on the table, and cry " Gentlemen, 
there is a better man than all of you." Bolivar, 
Mina and General Jackson will never be greater 
soldiers than Napoleon and Alexander, let Mr. 
Landor think as he will ; nor will he persuade us 
to burn Plato and Xenophon, out of our admira- 
tion of Bishop Patrick, or " Lucas on Happiness," 
or " Lucas on Holiness," or even Barrow's Ser- 
mons. Yet a man may love a paradox without 
either losing his ^vit or his honesty. A less par- 
donable eccentricity is the cold and gratuitous ob- 
trusion of licentious images, not so much the sug- 
gestion of merriment as of bitterness. Montaigne 
assigns as a reason for his license of speech, that 
he is tired of seeing his Essays on the work-tables 
of ladies, and he is determined they shall for the 



204 rM'riis from tiu- dial. 

futiuv put thoin out of si^ht. In Mr. Landor's 
ooarsonoss tlioro is a certain air oi dotianoo, and 
tho rndo word soonis soniotinios to arise from a 
disgust at nieeness and over-reiinenient. Before a 
well-ilressod eonn>:Hiy he plun«;vs his tinkers in a 
cesspool, as if to expose tJie whiteness of his hands 
and the jewels of his ring-. Afterward, he washes 
them in water, he washes them in wine ; but you 
are never sei'ure from his freaks. A s^n't of Earl 
IVterborongh in literature, his eeeentrieity is too 
decided not to have diminished his gveatness. llo 
has capital enough to have furnished the brain of 
fifty stock authors, yet has written no book. 

But we have spoken all our discontent. Possibly 
liis writings are open to harvsher censure ; but we 
k>ve the man, from sympathy as well as for ivasons 
io be assIguiHl ; and have no wish, if we were able, 
to put an argument in the mouth of his critics. 
Now for twenty years we have still found the *' Im- 
aginary Conversations" a sure resouive in solitude, 
and it seems to us as original in its form as in its 
matter. Nay, w hen we remend>er his rich and am- 
ple i>age, wherein we are always sure to ihid free 
and sustained thought, a keen and precise undei'- 
standing, an atlhicut autl ready memory familiar 
with all chi>sen books, an industrious observation in 
every department of life, an experience to which 
notJiing ha^ ocouri*ed iu ViUii, honor for every just 



WALTER SAVAGK LAN DOR. 205 

and gcnovous sentiment and a scourge lilie that of 
Furies for every oppressor, whether public or pri- 
vate, — we feel how dignified is this perpetual Cen- 
sor in his curule chair, and we wish to thank a 
benefactor of the reading world. 

Mr. Laiidor is one of the foremost of that small 
class who make good in the ninetoonth century the 
claims of pure literature. In these busy days of 
avarice and ambition, when there is so little dispo- 
sition to profound thought or to any but the most 
superficial intellectual entertainments, a faithful 
scholar, receiving from past ages the treasures of 
\vit and enlarging them by his own love, is a friend 
and consoler of mankind. When we pronounce 
the names of Homer and .T^^schylus ; Horace, Ovid 
and Plutarch ; Erasmus, Scaliger and INlontaigne ; 
l)cn flonson and Isaak Walton; Dryden and Pope, 
— we pass at once out of triviiil associations and 
enter into a region of the purest pleasure accessi- 
ble to human nature. We have quitted all beneath 
the moon and entered tliat crystal sphere in which I 
everything in the world of matter reappears, but 
transfigured and immortal. Literature is the effort 
of man to indcnnufy himself for tlic wrongs of his ' 
condition. The existence of the poorest play-wright 
and the humblest scrivener is a good omen. A 
charm attaches to the most inferior names which 
have in miy manner got themselves em'oUed in the 



206 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

registers of tlie House of Fame, even as porters and 
grooms in the courts ; to Creecli and Fenton, Theo- 
bald and Dennis, Aubrey and Spence. From the 
moment of entering a library and opening a desired 
book, we cease to be citizens, creditors, debtors, 
housekeepers and men of care and fear. What 
boundless leisure! what original jurisdiction! the 
old constellations have set, new and brighter have 
arisen ; an Elysian light tinges all objects : — 
" In the afternoon we came unto a land 
In wliicli it seemed always afternoon." 

And this sweet asylum of an intellectual life 
must appear to have the sanction of nature, as long 
as so many men are born with so decided an apti- 
tude for reading and writing. Let us thankfully 
allow every f acidty and art which opens new scope 
to a life so confined as ours. There are vast spaces 
in a thought : a slave, to whom the religious senti- 
ment is opened, has a freedom which makes his 
master's freedom a slavery. Let us not be so illib- 
eral with our schemes for the renovation of society 
and nature as to disesteem or deny the literary 
spirit. Certainly there are heights in nature which 
command this ; there are many more which this 
commands. It is vain to call it a luxury, and as 
saints and reformers are apt to do, decry it as a 
species of day-dreaming. What else are sanctities, 
and reforms, and all other things ? Whatever can 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, 207 

make for itself an element, means, organs, servants, 
and the most profound and permanent existence in 
the hearts and heads of millions of men, must have 
a reason for its being. Its excellency is reason and 
vindication enough. If rhyme rejoices us there 
should be rhyme, as much as if fire cheers us we 
should bring wood and coals. Each kind of excel- 
lence takes place for its hour and excludes every- 
thing else. Do not brag of your actions, as if they 
were better than Homer's verses or Eaphael's pic- 
tures. Raphael and Homer feel that action is piti- 
ful beside their enchantments. They could act too, 
if the stake was worthy of them : but now all that 
is good in the universe urges them to their task. 
Whoever writes for the love of truth and beauty, 
and not with ulterior ends, belongs to this sacred 
class ; and among these, few men of the present 
age have a better claim to be numbered than Mr. 
Landor. Wherever genius or taste has existed, 
wherever freedom and justice are threatened, which 
he values as the element in which genius may work, 
his interest is sure to be commanded. His love of 
beauty is passionate, and betrays itself in all petu- 
lant and contemptuous expressions. 

But beyond his delight in genius and his love of 
individual and civil liberty, Mr. Landor has a per- 
ception that is much more rare, the appreciation 
of character. This is the more remarkable con- 



208 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

sidered with his intense nationality, to which we 
have ah'eady alhided. He is buttoned in English 
broadcloth to the chin. He hates the Austrians, 
the Italians, the French, the Scotch, and the Irish. 
He has the common prejudices of an English land- 
holder ; values his pedigree, his acres and the syl- 
lables of his name ; loves all his advantages, is not 
insensible to the beauty of his watch-seal, or the 
Turk's head on his mnbrella ; yet with all this mis- 
cellaneous pride there is a noble nature within him 
which instructs him that he is so rich that he can 
well spare aU his trappings, and, leaving to others 
the painting of circimistance, aspire to the office of 
delineating character. He draws his own portrait in 
the costume of a village schoolmaster, and a sailor, 
and serenely enjoys the victory of nature over for- 
tune. Not only the elaborated story of Normanby, 
but the whimsical selection of his heads proves this 
taste. He draws with evident pleasure the portrait 
of a man who never said anything right and never 
did anything wrong. But in the character of Per- 
icles he has found full play for beauty and great- 
ness of behavior, where the circumstances are in har- 
mony with the man. These portraits, though mere 
sketches, must be valued as attempts in the very 
highest kind of narrative, which not only has very 
few examples to exhibit of any success, but very few 
competitors in the attempt. The word Character 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOB. 209 

IS in all months ; it is a force which we all feel ; 
yet who has analyzed it ? AVhat is the natnre of 
that snbtle and majestic principle whk'h attaches ns 
to a few persons, not so mnch by personal as by the 
most spiritnal ties ? AVhat is the qnality of the 
persons who, withont being pnblic men, or literary 
men, or ricli men, or active men, or (in the popnlar 
sense) religions men, have a certain salntary onmi- 
presence in all onr life's history, almost gi\^ng their 
own qnality to the atmosphere and the landscape ? 
A moral force, yet wholly nnmindfnl of creed and 
catechism, intellectnal, bnt scornful of books, it 
works directly and without means, and though it 
may be resisted at any time, yet resistance to it is a 
suicide. For the person who stands in this lofty re- 
lation to his fellow-men is always the impersonation 
to them of their conscience. It is a sufficient proof 
of the extreme delicacy of this element, evanescing 
before any but the most sjanpathetic vision, that it 
has so seldom been employed in tlie drama and in 
novels. Mr. Landor, almost alone among living- 
English writers, has indicated his perception of it. 

These merits make Mr. Landor's position in the 
republic of letters one of great mark and dignity. 
He exercises with a grandeur of spirit the office of 
wi'iter, and carries it with an air of old and unques- 
tionable nobility. We do not recollect an example 
of more complete independence in literary history. 



210 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

He has no clanship, no friendships that warp him. 
He was one of the first to pronounce Wordsworth 
the great poet of the age, yet he discriminates his 
faults with the greater freedom. He loves Pin- 
dar, ^schylus, Euripides, Aristophanes, Demos- 
thenes, Virgil, yet with open eyes. His position 
is by no means the highest in literature : he is not 
a poet or a philosopher. He is a man full of 
thoughts, but not, like Coleridge, a man of ideas. 
Only from a mind conversant with the First Phi- 
losophy can definitions be expected. Coleridge 
has contributed many valuable ones to modern 
literature. Mr. Landor's definitions are only enu- 
merations of particulars ; the generic law is not 
seized. But as it is not from the highest Alps or 
Andes but from less elevated summits that the most 
attractive landscape is commanded, so is Mr. Lan- 
der the most useful and agreeable of critics. He 
has commented on a wide variety of writers, with 
a closeness and extent of view which has en- 
hanced the value of those authors to his readers. 
His Dialogue on the Epicurean philosophy is a 
theory of the genius of Epicurus. The Dialogue 
between Barrow and Newton is the best of all crit- 
icisms on the essays of Bacon. His picture of De- 
mosthenes in three several Dialogues is new and 
adequate. He has illustrated the genius of Homer, 
jEschylus, Pindar, Euripides, Thucydides. Then 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 211 

he has exammed before he has expatiated, and the 
minuteness of his verbal criticism gives a confidence 
in his fidelity when he speaks the language of med- 
itation or of passion. His acquaintance with the 
English tongue is unsurpassed. He " hates false 
words, and seeks with care, difficulty and moroseness 
those that fit the thing." He knows the value of his 
own words. " They are not," he says, " written on 
slate." He never stoops to explanation, nor uses 
seven words where one will do. He is a master of 
condensation and suppression, and that in no vul- 
gar way. He knows the wide difference between 
compression and an obscure elliptical style. The 
dense writer has yet ample room and choice of 
phrase, and even a gamesome mood often between 
his valid words. There is no inadequacy or disa- 
greeable contraction in his sentence, any more than 
in a human face, where in a square space of a few 
inches is found room for every possible variety of 
expression. 

Yet it is not as an artist that Mr. Landor com- 
mends himself to us. He is not epic or dramatic, 
he has not the high, overpowering method by which 
the master gives unity and integrity to a work of 
many parts. He is too wilful, and never abandons 
himself to his genius. His books are a strange 
mixture of politics, etymology, allegory, sentiment, 
and personal history ; and what skill of transition 



212 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

he may possess is superficial, not spiritual. His 
merit must rest, at last, not on the spirit of the dia- 
logue or the symmetry of any of his historical 
portraits, but on the value of his sentences. Many 
of these will secure their own immortality in Eng- 
lish literature ; and this, rightly considered, is no 
mean merit. These are not plants and animals, 
but the genetical atoms of which both are com- 
posed. All our great debt to the Oriental world is 
of this kind, not utensils and statues of the precious 
metal, but bullion and gold-dust. Of many of Mr. 
Landor's sentences we are fain to remember what 
was said of those of Socrates ; that they are cubes, 
which will stand firm, place them how or where 
you will. 

m. 

PRAYEES.i 

" Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, 
Nor gems whose rates are either rich or poor 
As fancy values them : but with true prayers, 
That shall be up at heaven and enter there 
Ere sunrise ; prayers from preserved souls, 
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate 
To nothing temporal. " Shakspeare. 

Pythagoras said that the time when men are 
honestest is when they present themselves before the 
gods. If we can overhear the prayer we shall know 
1 The Dial, vol. iii. p. 77. 



PRAYERS. 213 

the man. But jirayers are not made to be over- 
heard, or to be printed, so that we seklom have the 
prayer otherwise than it can be inferred from the 
man and his fortunes, which are the answer to the 
prayer, and always accord with it. Yet there are 
scattered about in the earth a few records of these 
devout hours, which it would edify us to read, 
could they be collected in a more catholic spirit 
than the wretched and repulsive volumes which 
usurp that name. Let us not have the prayers of 
one sect, nor of the Christian Church, but of men 
in all ages and religions who have prayed well. 
The prayer of Jesus is (as it deserves) become a 
form for the human race. Many men have con- 
tributed a single expression, a single word to the 
language of devotion, which is immediately caught 
and stereotyped in the prayers of their church and 
nation. Among the remains of Euripides we have 
this prayer : " Thou God of all ! infuse light into 
the souls of men, whereby they may be enabled to 
know what is the root from whence all their evils 
spring, and by what means they may avoid them." 
In the Phaedrus of Plato, we find this petition in 
the mouth of Socrates : " O gracious Pan ! and ye 
other gods who preside over this place ! grant that 
I may be beautiful within ; and that those external 
things which I have may be such as may best agree 
with a right internal disposition of mine ; and that 



214 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

I may account him to be rich, who is wise and just." 
Wacic the Caliph, who died a.d. 845, ended his 
life, the Arabian historians tell us, with these 
words : " O thou whose kingdom never passes 
away, pity one whose dignity is so transient." 
But what led us to these remembrances was the 
happy accident which in this undevout age lately 
brought us acquainted with two or three diaries, 
which attest, if there be need of attestation, the 
eternity of the sentiment and its equality to it- 
self through all the variety of expression. The 
first is the prayer of a deaf and dumb boy : — 

" When my long-attached friend comes to me, I have 
pleasure to converse with him, and I rejoice to pass my 
eyes over his countenance ; but soon I am weary of 
spending my time causelessly and unimproved, and I de- 
sire to leave him, (but not in rudeness), because I 
wished to be engaged in my business. But thou, O my 
Father, knowest I always delight to commune with thee 
in my lone and silent heart ; I am never full of thee ; I 
am never weary of thee ; I am always desiring thee. I 
hunger with strong hope and affection for thee, and 
I thirst for thy grace and spirit. 

" When I go to visit my friends, I must put on my 
best garments, and I must think of my manner to please 
them. I am tired to stay long, because my mind is not 
free, and they sometimes talk gossip with me. But oh, 
my Father, thou visitest me in my work, and I can lift 



PRAYERS. 215 

up my desires to thee, and my heart is cheered and at 
rest with thy presence, and I am always alone with thee, 
and thou dost not steal my time by foolishness. I al- 
ways ask in my heart, where can I find thee ? " 

The next is a voice out of a solitude as strict and 
sacred as that in which nature had isolated this elo- 
quent mute : — 

" My Father, when I cannot be cheerful or happy, I 
can be true and obedient, and I will not forget that joy 
has been, and may still be. If there is no hour of soli- 
tude granted me, still I will commune with thee. If I 
may not search out and pierce thy thought, so much the 
more may my living praise thee. At whatever price, I 
must be alone with thee ; this must be the demand I 
make. These duties are not the life, but the means 
which enable us to show forth the life. So must I take 
up this cross, and bear it willingly. Why should I feel 
reproved when a busy one enters the room ? I am not 
idle, though I sit with folded hands, but instantly I 
must seek some cover. For that shame I reprove my- 
self. Are they only the valuable members of society 
who labor to dress and feed it ? Shall we never ask the 
aim of all this hurry and foam, of this aimless activity ? 
Let the purpose for which I live be always before me ; 
let every thought and word go to confirm and illuminate 
that end ; namely, that I must become near and dear 
to thee ; that now I am beyond the reach of all but thee. 

" How can we not be reconciled to thy will ? I wiU 
know the joy of giving to my friend the dearest treasure 



216 iwrFRS rRO^f the dial. 

I have. I know tliat sorrow i'oiuos not at onoo only. 
Wo oainiot moot, it and say, now it is ovorconio, but 
again, and yet again, its llood poui*s over us, ami jus lull 
JUS at tirst. 

'* It' Init this tedious battlo could bo fought. 
Like Sparta's horoos at i>uo nii'kv pass. 
• Ouo day bo spout iu dyiug, ' uumi had sought 
Tho spot, aud boou I'ut iK)\vu liko uunvor's grass." 

Tho noxt is iu a niotrioal t'onii. It is tho aspi- 
ration of a ditVoiviit niiml, in quito other regions of 
power and duty, yet they all aeeord at last. 

"Groat (lod, I ask thoo for no nu\uun' polf 
Thau that I may not disappoint myself, 
That iu my aotiou 1 may soar as high. 
As 1 oau now diseeru with this clear eye. 

Aud next iu value, which thy kiuduess lends, 
That 1 may greatly divsappoiut my friends, 
llowe'or they think or hoj^o that it may be. 
They may not dream how tbou'st distiuguished mc. 

. That my weak hand may equal my tirm faith, 
Autl my life practise n\oiv than my tongue sjiitb ; 
That my low conduct may not show, 
Ni>r my relouting Hues. 
Thai 1 thy purpose tliil not kuow, 
t>r ovorratoil thy designs. " 

The last of the four orisons is written in a singu- 
larly eabu and healthful spirit, and eont;iins tliis 
petition : — 



PRAYERS. 217 

" My Father : I now come to thee with a desire to 
tliaiik thee for the continuance of our love, the one for 
the other. I feel that without thy love in me I should 
be alone here in the flesh. I cannot express my grati- 
tude for what thou hast been and continuest to be to me. 
But thou knowest what my feelings are. When nought 
on earth seemeth pleasant to me, thou dost make thy- 
self known to me, and teach that which is needful for 
me, and dost cheer my travels on. I know that thou 
hast not created me and placed me here on earth, amidst 
its toils and troubles and the follies of those around me, 
and told me to be like thyself when I see so little of 
thee here to profit by ; thou hast not done tliis, and then 
left me here to myself, a poor, weak man, scarcely able 
to earn my bread. No ; thou art my Father and I will 
love thee, for thou didst first love me, and lovest me still. 
We will ever be parent and cliild. Wilt thou give me 
strength to persevere in this great work of redemption. 
Wilt thou show me the true means of accomplishing 
it. ... I thank thee for the knowledge that I have 
attained of thee by thy sons who have been before me, 
and especially for him who brought me so perfect a type 
of thy goodness and love to men. ... I know that 
thou wilt deal with me as I deserve. I place myself 
therefore in thy hand, knowing that thou wilt keep me 
from harm so long as I consent to live under thy pro- 
tecting care." 

Let these few scattered leaves, which a chance 
(as men say, but which to us shall be holy) 
brought under our eye nearly at the same moment, 



218 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

stami as an oxample of iiiimnunable similar expivs- 
sioiis which no mortal witness has reported, and bo 
a sign of the times. Might they be snggvstion 
to many a heart of yet higher seeret experieuees 
whieh are ineffable ! Bnt we must not tie up the 
rosary on whieh we have strung these few white 
beads, without adding a pearl of great prieo from 
that book of prayer, tiie ** Confessions of Saint 
Augustine." 

"And being- admonished to rotloot npon mysolt', I en- 
tered into the vovy inwanl parts of my sonl. by thy eon- 
duet ; ai\d I was able to do it, beeause now thou wert 
boi'ome my helper. I entered and diseevned with tlio 
eye of my soul (suoh as it was), even Ivyond my soul 
and mind itself, the Light unchangeable. Not tliis vul- 
g"nr hght wliieh jUI ilesh may look upon, nov as it were 
a gi*eater of the same kmd, as though the brightness of 
this should be manifold greater and with its greatness 
take up all space. Not such was this light, but other. 
yea, fai* other from all tliese. Neither was it so above 
my understaniling as oil swims above water, or as the 
heaven is above the earth. Init it is above me. Kx^ause 
it made me ; and 1 am under it, because I was made 
by it. He that knows truth or verity, knoNx-s what that 
light is, and he that knows it, kno\>'S eternity, and 
it is known by charity. C^ eternal Verity ! and true 
Charity ! and dear Eternity I thou art my God, to thee 
do I sigh day and night. Thee when I tust knew, thou 
liftedst me up tliat 1 might see, theiv was what 1 might 



ACRICULTURF OF MASSACHUSETTS. 219 

soo, ami tliat I was not yot siu'h as to soo. Aiul thou 
didst boat back my \vo;ik sioht upon mysoU', shooting 
out beams npon mo aftor a vohomont mannor; and I 
ovon tronibUHl botwoon love ami horror, luid I t'onnd 
niysolt* to be far olV, and even in the very region of dis- 
similitude from thee." 



IV. 

AGKICITT.TUUE OF IMxVSSACIIUSKTTS.i 

In ail afternoon in ^Vpvil, after a long walk, I 
traversed an oreliard where boys were grafting- 
apple-trees, and fonnd the Farmer in his coru-tleld. 
He was holding the plow, and his son driving tlie 
oxen. This man always impresses me with respet't, 
he is so maidy, so sweet-tempered, so faitlifnl, so 
disdainfnl of all appearances, — excellent and re- 
verable in his ohl weather-worn cap and bine frock 
bedanbed witli the soil of the field ; so honest with- 
al, that he always needs to be watched lest he shonld 
cheat himself. I still remember with some shame 
that in some dealing we had together a long time 
ago, I fonnd that he had been looking to my inter- 
est in the affair, and I had been looking to my in- 
tei'est, and nobody had looked to his part. As I 
drew near this brave laborer in the midst of his 
own acres, I conld not help feeling for him the high- 
est respect. Here is the Ciusar, the Alexander of 
1 The Dial, vol. iii. p. 123. 



220 /M/V7»\< r/x'OM TllF DIAL. 

tlio soil, oonquerini;- and to conquor, after liONvmaiiy 
ami many a hard-foiii^lit snnimor's day and winter's 
day : not like Naj>oleoii. lioro of sixty battles only, 
l>nt of six tlionsand, and ont of every one he has 
oonie vietor: and here he stands, with Atlantic 
strength and cheer, invincible still. These slight 
and nseless city limbs of onrs will come to shame 
before tliis strong soldier, for his have done his own 
work and onrs too. What good tliis man has or 
has had, he has earned. No rich father or father- 
in-law left him any inheritance of land or money. 
He borrowed the money with which he bonglit his 
farm, and has bred np a large family, given them 
a good cdncation, and improved his land in every 
way year by year, and this withont }>rejndice to 
lumself the landlord, for here he is. a man every 
inch of him, and reminds ns of the hero of the 
Kobin Hood ballad, — 

" Much, the inillov's son, 
Tlioi'o w:is no inch of liis body 
l>ut it >v;is worth a givoiu." 

Innocence and jnstice have written their names 
on his brow. Toil has not broken his spirit. His 
langh rings with the sweetness and hilarity of a 
child : yet he is a man of a strongly intellectnal taste, 
of nnieh reading, and of an erect good sense and 
inde}>endent spirit which can neither brook nsnrpa- 
tion nor falsehood in any shape. 1 walkcil np and 



AGRICULTURE OF MASSACHUSETTS. 221 

dowii the field, as he ploughed his furrow, and we 
talked iis we widked. Our eonversation naturally 
turned on the season and its new labors. He had 
been reading the Keport of the Agrieultural Survey 
of the Commonwealtli, and had found good things 
in it; but it was easy to see that he felt toward 
the author mueli as soldiers do towards the histori- 
ographer who follows the cainp, more good-nature 
thiui reverence for the gownsnuui. 

The First Report, he said, is better than the last, 
as I observe the first sermon of a minister is often 
his best, for every man has one thmg which he spe- 
ciall}^ wishes to say, and that comes out at first. But 
who is this book written for ? Not for farmers ; no 
pains are taken to send it to them ; it was by acci- 
dent that this volume came into my hands for a few 
days. And it is not for them. They could not af- 
ford to follow such advice as is given here ; they 
have sterner teachers ; their o\vn business teaches 
them better. No ; tliis was written for the literaiy 
men. But in that case, the state should not be taxed 
to pay for it. Let us see. The account of the 
maple sugar, — that is very good and entertaining, 
and, I suppose, true. The story of the farmer's 
daughter, whom education had spoiled for every- 
thing useful on a farm, — that is good too, and we 
have much that is like it in Thomas's Almanack. 
But why this recommendation of stone houses? 



222 PAr/':Rs rh'0}f tjjf. dfal. 

Tlioy arc not so clioap, not so dry, and not so fit for 
us. Our roads aro always c'haui;iu<>' tlioir direction, 
and after a. man has budt at groat cost a stone house, 
a new road is opened, and he finds himself a mile 
or two from the highway. Then our people are not 
stationary, like those of old eouutrles, but always 
alert to better themselves, and will remove from 
town to town as a new market opens or a better farm 
is to be had, and do not wish to spend too much on 
their buildings. 

The Conunissiouor advises the farmers to sell 
their cattle and their hay in the f iiU, and buy again 
in the spring. Hut we farmers always Imow what 
our interest dictates, and do accordingly. We have 
no choice in this matter ; our way is but too plain. 
Down below, where manure is cheap and hay dear, 
they will sell their oxcmi in Novtimber ; but for me 
to sell my cattle and my [>roducc in the fall, would 
be to s<41 my farm, for 1 sliould have no nuuiure to re- 
new a ('voy \n the s[)riug. And thus Necessity farms 
it ; necessity finds out when to go to Brighton, and 
when to feed in the stall, better than INIr. Colnian 
can tell us. 

But especially observe what is said throughout 
these Keports of the model farms and model far- 
mers. One would think that ^Ir. D. and INlajor S. 
were thi^ pillars of the Couuuouwcalth. The good 
Connnissioner takes otf his hat whcu he approaches 



AGRICULTURE OF MASSACHUSETTS. 223 

tlicm, distrusts the value of " his feeble praise," and 
repeats his compliments as often as their names are 
introdueed. And yet, in my opinion, Mr. D., with 
all his knowledge and present skill, would starve in 
two years on any one of fifty poor farms in this 
neighborhood, on each of wliich now a farmer man- 
ages to get a good living. Mr. D. inherited a farm, 
and spends on it every year from other resources ; 
otherwise his farm had ruined him long since ; — 
and as for the Major, he never got rich by his skill 
in making land produce, but in making men pro- 
duce. The truth is, a farm will not make an honest 
man rich in money. I do not know of a single in- 
stance in which a man has honestly got rich by farm- 
ing alone. It cannot be done. The way in which 
men who have farms grow rich, is eitlier by other 
resources, or by trade, or by getting their labor for 
nothing, or by other methods of which I could tell 
you many sad anecdotes. What docs the Agricultu- 
ral Surveyor know of all this ? Wliat can he know ? 
He is the victim of the " Eeports," that are sent 
him, of particular farms. He cannot go behind the 
estimates to know how the contracts were made, and 
how the sales were effected. Tlie true men of skill, 
the poor farmers, who, by the sweat of their face, 
without an iidieritance and without offence to their 
conscience have reared a family of valuable citizens 
and matrons to the state, reduced a stubborn soil to 



224 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

a good farm, — although their buildings are many 
of them shabby, are the only right subjects of this 
Report ; yet these make no figure in it. These 
should be holden up to imitation, and their methods 
detailed ; yet their houses are very uninviting and 
inconspicuous to State Commissioners. So with 
these premiums to farms, and premiums at cattle- 
shows. The class that I describe must pay the 
premium which is awarded to the rich. Yet the 
premium obviously ought to be given for the good 
management of a poor farm. 

In this strain the Farmer proceeded, adding many 
special criticisms. He had a good opinion of the 
Surveyor, and acquitted him of any blame in the 
matter, but was incorrigible in his skepticism con- 
cerning the benefits conferred by legislatures on the 
agriculture of Massachusetts. I believe that my 
friend is a little stiff and inconvertible in his own 
opinions, and that there is another side to be heard ; 
but so much wisdom seemed to lie under all his 
statement that it deserved a record. 



EUROPE AND EUROPEAN BOOKS. 225 

V. 

EUROPE AND EUROPEAN BOOKS.i 

It was a brighter day than we have often known 
in our literary calendar, when within a twelvemonth 
a single London advertisement announced a new 
volume of poems by Wordsworth, poems by Tenny- 
son, and a play by Henry Taylor. Wordsworth's 
nature or character has had all the time it needed 
in order to make its mark and supply the want of 
talent. We have learned how to read him. We 
have ceased to expect that which he cannot give. 
He has the merit of just moral perception, but not 
that of deft poetic execution. How would Milton 
curl his lip at such slipshod newspaper style. Many 
of his poems, as for example the Rylstone Doe, 
might be all improvised. Nothing of Milton, noth- 
ing of Marvell, of Herbert, of Dryden, could be. 
These are such verses as in a just state of culture 
should be vers de sociSte., such as every gentleman 
could write but none would think of printing, or of 
claiming the poet's laurel on their merit. The Pin- 
dar, the Shakspeare, the Dante, whilst they have 
the just and open soul, have also the eye to see the 
dimmest star that glimmers in the Milky Way, the 
serratures of ever}^ leaf, the test-objects of the mi- 
1 The Dial, vol. iii. p. 511. 



226 PAPERS FROM THE DTAL. 

croscope, and then the tongue to utter the same 
thin^-H in words that engrave them on all the cars 
of mankind. Tlie poet demands all gifts, and not 
one or two oidy. 

The poet, like the electric rod, must reach from 
a ])oint nearer the sky than all surrounding objects, 
down to tlici earth, and into tlie dark wet soil, or 
neither is of use. The poet must not only converse 
with pure thought, but he must demonstrate it al- 
most to the senses. Ilis words must be pictures, 
his verses must be si)heres and cubes, to be seen and 
smelled and handled. His fable must be a good 
story, and its meaning must hold as pure truth. In 
the debates on the Copyriglit Bill, in the English 
Parliament, Mr. Sergeant Waliley, the coroner, 
quoted Wordsworth's poetry in derision, and asked 
the roaring House of Commons what that meant, 
and wlietlier a man should liave public reward for 
writing siieh stuff. Homer, Horace, Milton and 
Chaucer would defy the coroner. Whilst they have 
wisdom to the wise, he would see that to the exter- 
nal they have external meaning. Coleridge excel- 
lently said of ])()et]y, that i)oetry must first be good 
sense ; as a i)alace miglit well be magnificent, but 
first it nuist be a house. 

Wordsworth is o])en to ridicule of this kind. 
And yet Wordswoi-th, tliougli satisfied if lie can 
suggest to a sym2)athetie' mind his own mood, and 



EUROPE AND EUROPEAN HOOKS. 227 

though setting a private and exaggerated value on 
his compositions ; thougli confounding his acci- 
dental with the universal consciousness, and taking 
the public to task for not admiring his poetry, — 
is really a master of the English language, and his 
poems evince a power of diction tliat is no more 
rivalled by his contemporaries than is his poetic in- 
sight. But the capital merit of Wordsworth is that 
lie lias done more for the sanity of this generation 
than any other writer. Early in life, at a (;risis 
it is said in his private affairs, he made his election 
between assuming and defending some legal rights, 
with the; <;hanc(;s of w(5alth and a ])Osition in the 
world, — and the inward pion)])tings of liis heav(;nly 
genius ; he took his part ; he accepted the call to be 
a j)oet, and sat down, far from cities, with coarse 
clothing and plain fare to obey the heavenly vision. 
The choice he had made in his will, manif(;sted it- 
self in every line to be real. We have ])oets who 
wi'ite the poetry of society, of the patrician and con- 
ventional Europe, as Scott and Moore, and others 
who, lik(; Byron or Bulwcr, wiitc; the ])0(!ti'y of vice 
and disease, l^ut Wordsworth thi'cw himself into his 
place, made no reserves or stii)ulations ; man and 
writer were not to be divided. He sat at the foot 
of Ilelvellyn and on the margin of Windermere, 
and took their lustrous mornings and thcii' sublime 
midnights for his theme, and not Marlow, nor Mas- 



228 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

singer, not Horace, nor Milton, nor Dante. He 
once for all forsook the styles and standards and 
modes of thinking of London and Paris, and the 
books read there, and the aims pursued, and wrote 
Helvellyn and Windermere, and the dim spirits 
which these haunts harbored. There was not the 
least attempt to reconcile these with the spirit of 
fashion and selfishness, nor to show, with great def- 
erence to the superior judgment of dukes and earls, 
that although London was the home for men of 
great parts, yet Westmoreland had these consola- 
tions for such as fate had condemned to the country 
life, — but with a complete satisfaction he pitied 
and rebuked their false lives, and celebrated his 
own with the religion of a true priest. Hence the 
antagonism which was immediately felt between his 
poetry and the spirit of the age, that here not only 
criticism but conscience and will were parties ; the 
spirit of literature and the modes of living and the 
conventional theories of the conduct of life were 
called in question on wholly new grounds, — not 
from Platonism, not from Christianity, but from 
the lessons which the country muse taught a stout 
pedestrian climbing a mountain and following a 
river from its parent rill down to the sea. The 
Cannings and Jeffreys of the capital, the Court 
Journals and Literary Gazettes were not well 
pleased, and voted the poet a bore. But that which 



EUROPE AND EUROPEAN BOOKS. 229 

rose in liini so high as to the lips, rose in many- 
others as high as to the heart. What he said, they 
were prepared to hear and confirm. The influence 
was in the air, and was wafted up and down into 
lone and into populous places, resisting the popular 
taste, modifying opinions which it did not change, 
and soon came to be felt in poetry, in criticism, in 
plans of life, and at last in legislation. In this 
country it very early found a stronghold, and its 
effect may be traced on all the poetry both of Eng- 
land and America. 

But, notwithstanding all Wordsworth's grand 
merits, it was a great pleasure to know that Alfred 
Tennyson's two volumes were coming out in the 
same ship ; it was a great pleasure to receive them. 
The elegance, the wit and subtlety of this writer, 
his rich fancy, his power of language, his metrical 
skill, his independence on any living masters, his 
peculiar topics, his taste for the costly and gorgeous, 
discriminate the musky poet of gardens and con- 
servatories, of parks and palaces. Perhaps we felt 
the popular objection that he wants rude truth; 
he is too fine. In these boudoirs of damask and 
alabaster, one is farther off from stern nature and 
human life than in Lalla Rookh and " The Loves 
of the Angels." Amid swinging censers and per- 
fumed lamps, amidst velvet and glory we long for 
rain and frost. Otto-of -roses is good, but wild air 



230 PAPFRS FEO^^ the dial. 

is better. A critical friend of ours affirms that the 
vice which bereaved modern painters of their power, 
is the ambition to begin where their fathers ended ; 
to equal the masters in their exquisite finish, instead 
of their religious purpose. The painters are not 
willing to paint ill enough ; they will not paint for 
their times, agitated by the spirit which agitates 
tlieir country; so slioidd their picture picture us 
and draw all men after them ; but they copy the 
technics of their predecessors, and paint for their 
predecessors' public. It seems as if the same vice 
had worked in poetry. Tennj^son's compositions 
are not so much poems as studies in poetry, or 
sketches after the stj^les of sundry old masters. He 
is not the husband, who builds the homestead after 
his own necessity, from foundation-stone to chim- 
ney-top and turret, but a tasteful bachelor who col- 
lects quaint staircases and groined ceilings. We 
have no right to such superfineness. We must not 
make our bread of pure sugar. These delicacies 
and splendors are then legitimate when they are the 
excess of substantial and necessary expenditure. 
The best songs in English poetry are by that heavy, 
hard, pedantic poet, Ben Jonson. Jonson is rude, 
and only on rare occasions gay. Tennyson is al- 
ways fine ; but Jonson's beauty is more grateful 
than Tennyson's, It is a natural manly grace of a 
robust workman. Ben's flowers are not in pots at 



EUROPE AND EUROPEAN BOOKS. 231 

a city florist's, arranged on a flower-stand, but lie 
is a countryman at a liarvest-liome, attending his 
ox-cart from the fields, loaded with potatoes and 
apples, with grapes and plums, with nuts and ber- 
ries, and stuck with boughs of hemlock and sweet- 
briar, with ferns and pond lilies which the children 
have gathered. But let us not quarrel with our 
benefactors. Perhaps Tennyson is too quaint and 
elegant. What then? It is long since we have 
had as good a lyrist ; it will be long before we have 
his superior. " Godiva" is a noble poem that will 
tell the legend a thousand years. The poem of all 
the poetry of the present age for which we predict 
the longest term, is " Abou ben Adhem," of Leigh 
Hunt. Fortune will still have her part in every 
victory, and it is strange that one of the best poems 
should be written by a man who has hardly written 
any other. And " Godiva " is a parable which be- 
longs to the same gospel. "Locksley Hall" and 
"The Two Voices" are meditative poems, which 
were slowly written to be slowly read. " The Talk- 
ing Oak," though a little hurt by its wit and in- 
genuity, is beautiful, and the most poetic of the vol- 
ume. "Ulysses" belongs to a high class of poetry, 
destined to be the highest, and to be more culti- 
vated in the next generation. "CEnone" was a 
sketch of the same kind. One of the best speci- 
mens we have of the class is Wordsworth's " Lao- 



232 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 



1 



damia," of which no special merit it can possess 
eqnals the total merit of having selected such a sub- 
ject in such a spirit. 

Next to the poetry, the novels, which come to us 
in every ship from England, have an importance in- 
creased by the immense extension of their circula- 
tion through the new cheap press, which sends them 
to so many willing thousands. We have heard it 
alleged with some evidence that the prominence 
given to intellectual power in Bulwer's romances 
has proved a main stimulus to mental cidture in 
thousands of yoimg men in England and America. 
The effect on manners cannot be less sensible, and 
we can easily believe that the behavior of the ball- 
room and of the hotel has not failed to draw some 
addition of dignity and grace from the fair ideals 
with which the imagination of a novelist has filled 
the heads of the most imitative class. 

We are not very well versed in these books, yet 
we have read Mr. Bulwer enough to see that the 
story is rapid and interesting ; he has really seen 
London society, and does not draw ignorant carica- 
tures. He is not a genius, but his novels are 
marked with great energy and with a courage of 
experiment which in each instance had its degree 
of success. The story of Zanoni was one of those 
world-fables which is so agreeable to the human 
imagination that it is found in some form in the 



EUROPE AND EUROPEAN BOOKS. 233 

language of every country, and is always reappear- 
ing in literature. Many of the details of this novel 
preserve a poetic truth. We read Zanoni with 
pleasiu'e, because magic is natural. It is implied 
in all superior culture that a complete man would 
need no auxiliaries to Jiis personal presence. The 
eye and the word are certainly far subtler and 
stronger weapons than either money or knives. 
Whoever looked on the hero would consent to his 
will, being certified that his aims were universal, 
not selfish ; and he would be obeyed as naturally as 
the rain and the sunshine are. For this reason, chil- 
dren delight in fairy tales. Nature is described in 
them as the servant of man, which they feel ought 
to be true. But Zanoni pains us and the author 
loses our respect, because he speedily betrays that he 
docs not see the true limitations of the charm ; be- 
cause the power with which his hero is armed is a 
toy, inasmuch as the power does not flow from its le- 
gitimate fountains in the mind, is a power for Lon- 
don ; a divine power converted into a burglar's false 
key or a higliwayman's pistol to rob and kill with. 
But Mr. Bulwer's rec^ent stories have given us 
who do not read novels, occasion to think of this 
department of literature, supposed to be the natural 
fruit and expression of the age. We conceive that 
the obvious division of modern romance is into two 
kinds: first, the novels of costume or of circum- 



234 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

stance, which is the old style, and vastly the most 
numerous. In this class, the hero, without any 
particular character, is in a very particidar circimi- 
stance ; he is greatly in want of a fortune or of a 
wife, and usually of both, and the business of the 
piece is to provide him suitably. This is the prob- 
lem to be solved in thousands of English romances, 
including the Porter novels and the more splendid 
examples of the Edgeworth and Scott Romances. 

It is curious how sleepy and foolish we are, that 
these tales will so take us. Again and again we 
have been caught in that old foolish trap. Had 
one noble thought opening the chambers of the in- 
tellect, one sentiment from the heart of God been 
spoken by them, the reader had been made a par- 
ticipator of their triumph ; he too had been an in- 
vited and eternal guest ; but this reward granted 
them is property, all-excluding property, a little 
cake baked for them to eat and for none other, nay, 
a preference and cosseting which is rude and insult- 
ing to all but the minion. 

Except in the stories of Edgeworth and Scott, 
whose talent knew how to give to the book a thou- 
sand adventitious graces, the novels of costume are 
all one, and there is but one standard English novel, 
like the one orthodox sermon, which with slight 
variation is repeated every Sunday from so many 
pulpits. 



EUROPE AND EUROPEAN BOOKS. 235 

But tlie otlier novel, of which " Wilhehn Meister" 
is the best specimen, the novel of character.^ treats 
the reader with more respect ; the development of 
character being the problem, the reader is made a 
partaker of the whole prosperity. Everything good 
in such a story remains with the reader when the 
book is closed. A noble book was Wilhelm Meis- 
ter. It gave the hint of a cultivated society which 
we found nowhere else. It was founded on power 
to do what was necessary, each person finding it an 
indispensable qualification of membership that he 
could do something useful, as in mechanics or agri- 
culture or other indispensable art ; then a probity, 
a justice was to be its element, symbolized by the 
insisting that each property should be cleared of 
privilege, and should pay its full tax to the State. 
Then a perception of beauty was the equally indis- 
pensable element of the association, by which each 
was dignified and all were dignified ; then each was 
to obey his genius to the length of abandonment. 
They watched each candidate vigilantly, without 
his knowing that he was observed, and when he had 
given proof that he was a faithful man, then all 
doors, all houses, all relations were open to him ; 
high behavior fraternized with high behavior, 
without question of heraldry, and the only power 
recognized is the force of character. 

The novels of Fashion, of D'Israeli, Mrs. Gore, 



236 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

Mr. Ward, belong to the class of novels of costume, 
because the aim is purely external success. Of the 
tales of fashionable life, by far the most agreeable 
and the most efficient was Vivian Grey. Young 
men were and still are the readers and victims. 
Byron ruled for a time, but Vivian, with no tithe 
of Byron's genius, rules longer. One can distin- 
guish the Vivians in all companies. They would 
quiz their father and mother and lover and friend. 
They discuss sun and planets, liberty and fate, love 
and death, over the soup. They never sleep, go 
nowhere, stay nowhere, eat nothing, and know no- 
body, but are uj) to anything, though it were the 
genesis of nature, or the last cataclysm, — Festus- 
like, Faust-like, Jove-like, and could ^vrite an Iliad 
any rainy morning, if fame were not such a bore. 
Men, women, though the greatest and fairest, are 
stupid things ; but a rifle, and a mild pleasant gun- 
powder, a spaniel, and a cheroot, are themes for 
Olympus. I fear it was in part the influence of 
such pictures on li\dng society which made the style 
of manners of which we have so many pictures, as, 
for example, in the following account of the Eng- 
lish f ashionist. " His highest triumph is to apj)ear 
with the most wooden manners, as little polished as 
will suffice to avoid castigation, nay, to contrive 
even his civilities so that they may appear as near 
as may be to affronts ; instead of a noble high-bred 



PAST AND PRESENT. 237 

ease, to have the courage to offend against every 
restraint of decorum, to invert the relation in which 
our sex stand to women, so that they appear the 
attacking, and he the passive or defensive party." 

We must here check our gossip in mid volley 
and adjourn the rest of our critical chapter to a 
more convenient season. 



VI. 

PAST AND PRESENT.i 

Heee is Carlyle's new poem, his Iliad of English 
woes, to follow his poem on France, entitled the 
History of the French Revolution. In its first 
aspect it is a political tract, and since Burke, since 
Milton, we have had nothing to compare with it. 
It grapples honestly with the facts lying before all 
men, groups and disposes them with a master's 
mind, and, with a heart full of manly tenderness, 
offers his best counsel to his brothers. Obviously 
it is the book of a powerful and accomplished 
thinker, who has looked with naked eyes at the 
dreadful political signs in England for the last few 
years, has conversed much on these topics with such 
wise men of all ranks and parties as are drawn to a 
scholar's house, until such daily and nightly medi- 
The Dial, vol. iv. p. 96. 



238 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

tation has grown into a great connection, if not a 
system of thoughts ; and the topic of English poli- 
tics becomes the best vehicle for the expression of 
his recent thinking, recommended to him by the de- 
sire to give some timely counsels, and to strip the 
worst mischiefs of their plausibility. It is a brave 
and just book, and not a semblance. "No new 
truth," say the critics on all sides. Is it so ? Truth 
is very old, but the merit of seers is not to invent 
but to dispose objects in their right places, and he 
is the commander who is always in the mount, 
whose eye not only sees details, but throws crowds 
of details into their right arrangement and a larger 
and juster totality than any other. The book makes 
great approaches to true contemporary history, a 
very rare success, and firmly holds up to daylight 
the absurdities still tolerated in the English and 
European system. It is such an appeal to the con- 
science and honor of England as cannot be forgot- 
ten, or be feigned to be forgotten. It has the merit 
which belongs to every honest book, that it was self- 
examining before it was eloquent, and so hits all 
other men, and, as the country people say of good 
preaching, " comes bounce down into every pew." 
Every reader shall carry away something. The 
scholar shall read and write, the farmer and me- 
chanic shall toil, with new resolution, nor forget 
the book when they resume their labor. 



PAST AND PRESENT. 239 

Though no theocrat, and more than most philos- 
ophers a believer in political systems, Mr. Carlyle 
very fairly finds the calamity of the times, not in 
bad bills of Parliament, nor the remedy in good bills, 
but the vice in false and superficial aims of the peo- 
ple, and the remedy in honesty and insight. Like 
every work of genius, its great value is in telling 
such simple truths. As we recall the topics, we 
are struck with the force given to the plain truths ; 
the picture of the English nation all sitting en- 
chanted, the poor, enchanted so that they cannot 
work, the rich, enchanted so that they cannot enjoy, 
and are rich in vain ; the exposure of the progress 
of fraud into all arts and social activities ; the prop- 
osition that the laborer must have a greater share 
in his earnings ; that the principle of permanence 
shall be admitted into all contracts of mutual ser- 
vice ; that the state shall provide at least school- 
master's education for all the citizens ; the exhorta- 
tion to the workman that he shall resj)ect the work 
and not the wages ; to the scholar that he shall be 
there for light ; to the idle, that no man shall sit 
idle ; the picture of Abbot Samson, the true gov- 
ernor, who " is not there to expect reason and no- 
bleness of others, he is there to give them of his 
own reason and nobleness ; " and the assumption 
throughout the book, that a new chivalry and no- 
bility, namely the dynasty of labor, is replacing the 



240 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

old nobilities. These things strike us with a force 
which reminds us of the morals of the Oriental 
or early Greek masters, and of no modern book. 
Truly in these things is great reward. It is not by 
sitting still at a grand distance and calling the hu- 
man race larvce^ that men are to be helped, nor 
by helping the depraved after their own foolish 
fashion, but by doing unweariedly the particular 
work we were born to do. Let no man think him- 
self absolved because he does a generous action and 
befriends the poor, but let him see whether he so 
holds his property that a benefit goes from it to all. 
A man's diet should be what is simplest and readi- 
est to be had, because it is so private a good. His 
house should be better, because that is for the use 
of hundreds, perhaps of thousands, and is the prop- 
erty of the traveller. But his speech is a perpetual 
and public instrument ; let that always side with the 
race and yield neither a lie nor a sneer. His man- 
ners, — let them be hospitable and civilizing, so 
that no Phidias or Eaphael shall have taught any- 
thing better in canvas or stone ; and his acts 
should be representative of the human race, as one 
who makes them rich in his having, and poor in his 
want. 

It requires great courage in a man of letters to 
handle the contemporary practical questions; not 
because he then has all men for his rivals, but be- 



PAST AND PRESENT. 241 

cause of the infinite entanglements of the problem, 
and the waste of strength in gathering unripe fruits. 
The task is superhuman ; and the poet knows well 
that a little time will do more than the most puis- 
sant genius. Time stills the loud noise of opinions, 
sinks the small, raises the great, so that the true 
emerges without effort and in perfect harmony to 
all eyes ; but the truth of the present hour, except 
in particulars and single relations, is unattainable. 
Each man can very well know his own part of duty, 
if he will ; but to bring out the truth for beauty, 
and as literature, surmounts the powers of art. 
The most elaborate history of to-day will have the 
oddest dislocated look in the next generation. The 
historian of to-day is yet three ages off. The poet 
cannot descend into the turbid present without in- 
jury to his rarest gifts. Hence that necessity of 
isolation which genius has always felt. He must 
stand on his glass tripod, if he would keep his elec- 
tricity. 

But when the political aspects are so calamitous 
that the sympathies of the man overpower the hab- 
its of the poet, a higher than literary insj)iration 
may succor him. It is a costly proof of character, 
that the most renowned scholar of England should 
take his reputation in his hand and shoidd descend 
into the ring ; and he has added to his love what- 
ever honor his opinions may forfeit. To atone for 



242 PAPERS FPO}r THE DIAL. 

this departure from tlie vows of the schohir and his 
eternal duties to this seeular charity, we have at 
least tliis gain, that here is a message which those 
to whom it was addressed cannot choose but hear. 
Though they die, thoy nuist listen. It is plain that 
whether by hope or by fear, or were it only by de- 
light in this panorama of brilliant images, all the 
great classes of English society must read, even 
those whose existence it proscribes. Poor Queen 
Victoria, — poor Sir Robert Peel, poor Primate and 
Bishops, — poor Dukes and Lords ! There is no 
help in place or pride or in loe^king another way : a 
grain of wit is more penetrating than the lightning 
of the night-storm, which no curtains or shutters 
will keep out. Here is a book which will be read, 
no thanks to anybody but itself. What pains, what 
hopes, what vows, shall come of the reading ! 
Here is a book as full of treason as an egg is full 
of meat, and every lordship and worship and high 
form and ceremony of English conservatism tossed 
like a foot-ball into the air, and kept in the air, 
with merciless kicks and rebounds, and yet not a 
word is punishable by statute. The wit has eluded 
all otTicial zeal : and yet these dire jokes, these 
cunning thrusts, this tiaming sword of Cherubim 
waved high in air, illuminates the whole horizon, 
and shows to the eyes of the universe every wound 
it inflicts. Worst of all for the party attacked, it 



PAST AXn PRESENT. 243 

bereaves tliem beforehand of all synipatliy, by an- 
ticipating the plea of poetic and humane conserva- 
tism, and impressing the reader witli the conviction 
that the satirist himself has the truest love for 
everj-thing old and excellent in English land and 
institutions, and a genuine respect for the basis of 
truth in those whom he exposes. 

We are at some loss how to state what strikes us 
as the fault of this remarkable book, for the vari- 
ety and excellence of the talent displayed in it is 
pretty sure to leave all special criticism in the 
wrono". And we mav easily fail in expressino; the 
general objection which we feel. It appears to us 
as a certain disproportion in the picture, caused by 
the obtrusion of the whims of the painter. In this 
work, as in his former labors, ]\Ir. Carlyle reminds 
us of a sick giant. His humors are expressed 
with so much force of constitution that his fancies 
ai'c more attractive and more credible than the san- 
ity of duller men. But the habitual exaggeration 
of the tone wearies whilst it stimulates. It is felt 
to be so much deduction from the universality of 
tlie picture. It is not serene sunshine, but every- 
tliing is seen in lurid storm-lights. Every object 
attitudinizes, to the very mountains and stars al- 
most, imder the refraction of this wonderful humor- 
ist : and instead of the conmiou earth and sl^, w^e 
have a Martin's Creation or Judgment T>aj. A 



244 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

crisis has always arrived which requires a deics ex 
machind. One can hardly credit, whilst under the 
spell of this magician, that the world always had 
the same bankrupt look, to foregoing ages as to us, 
— as of a failed world just re-collecting its old 
withered forces to begin again and try to do a little 
business. It was perhaps inseparable from the at- 
tempt to write a book of wit and imagination on 
English politics, that a certain local emphasis and 
love of effect, such as is the vice of preaching, 
should appear, — producing on the reader a feeling 
of forlornness by the excess of value attributed to 
circumstances. But the splendor of wit cannot 
outdazzle the calm daylight, which always shows 
every individual man in balance with his age, and 
able to work out his own salvation from all the fol- 
lies of that, and no such glaring contrasts or sever- 
alties in that or this. Each age has its own follies, 
as its majority is made up of foolish young people ; 
its superstitions appear no superstitions to itself ; 
and if you should ask the contemporary, he would 
tell you, with pride or with regret, (according as 
he was practical or poetic), that he had none. But 
after a short time, down go its follies and weak- 
ness and the memory of them ; its virtues alone 
remain, and its limitation assumes the poetic form 
of a beautiful superstition, as the dimness of our 
sight clothes the objects in the horizon with mist 



PAST AND PRESENT. 245 

and color. The revelation of Ecason is this of the 
unchangeableness of the fact of humanity under all 
its subjective aspects ; that to the cowering it al- 
ways cowers, to the daring it opens great avenues. 
The ancients are only venerable to us because dis- 
tance has destroyed what was trivial ; as the sun and 
stars affect us only grandly, because we cannot reach 
to their smoke and surfaces and say. Is that all ? 

And yet the gravity of the times, the manifold 
and increasing dangers of the English State, may 
easily excuse some over-coloring of the picture ; and 
we at this distance are not so far removed from 
any of the specific evils, and are deeply participant 
in too many, not to share the gloom iind thank the 
love and the courage of the counsellor. This book 
is full of humanity, and nothing is more excellent 
in this as in all Mr. Carlyle's works, than the atti- 
tude of the writer. He has the dignity of a man 
of letters, who knows what belongs to him, and 
never deviates from his sphere ; a continuer of the 
great line of scholars, he sustains their office in the 
highest credit and honor. If the good heaven have 
any good word to impart to this unworthy genera- 
tion, here is one scribe qualified and clothed for 
its occasion. One excellence he has in an age of 
Mammon and of criticism, that he never suffers 
the eye of his wonder to close. Let who will be the 
dupe of trifles, he cannot keep his eye off from 
that gracious Infinite which enbosoms us. 



246 rArFK< fhom thf niAL. 

As a lit ovary artist ho has groat luorit.s Wgiii- 
nfni:- with tho main ono that ho novor \\i\-»to one 
dull lino. How woU-roavl. how aclroii, what thou- 
sanil arts in his ono art of writing : with his oxpe- 
diont for oxpivssing those nnprovon opinions which 
ho ontortains bnt will not endorse, by snmmoning 
ono of his nuM\ of straw fron\ tho ooU. — and tho re- 
speotablo Sanortoig. or Toufolsdrivkh, or Drva^dnst^ 
or Piotnresqno Traveller, s:\ys what is pnt into his 
n\onth. and disappeai'S. That morbid tomponvment 
has i^ivon his rhotorio a somewhat bloatoti ohan\e- 
tor ; a luxnry to n\any imaginative and learned 
persons, like a showery south-wind with it^ sim- 
bursts and rapid ohasing of lights and glooms over 
the laiidseape. and vot its otTensiveness to nndti- 
tudes of ivlnotant lovers makes ns often wish some 
eonoession were possible on the jv^rt of the humor- 
ist. Yet it must not bo forgotten that in all his 
fun of oastanots. or playing of tunes with a whijv 
lash like son\e ivnowned oharioteei's, — in all this 
i^lad and noinlfnl venting of his iwhuidant spirits, 
he iloes yet ever and anon, as if eatohing the glam^ 
of ono wise man in the orowd, quit his temjx'stiioiis 
key. and lanoe at him in clear level tone tho \-try 
woixl. and then with new* glee ivturn to his g":mio. 
He is like a lover or an outlaw who wraps up his 
mess;\gv in a serenade, which is nonsense to the 
sentinel, but s;\h-;Uion to the ear for wliieh it is 



PAST AND PRESENT. 247 

meant. He does not dodge the question, but gives 
sineerity where it is due. 

One word more respeeting this remarkable style. 
We have in literature few specimens of magnifi- 
eenee. Plato is the purple aneient, and Baeon and 
Milton the moderns of the riehest strains. Burke 
sometimes reaches to that exuberant fullness, though 
deficient in depth. Carlyle, in his strange, half- 
mad way, has entered the Field of the Cloth of 
Gold, and shown a vigor and wealth of resource 
which has no rival in the tourney-play of these 
times ; — the indubitable champion of England. 
Carlyle is the first domestication of the modern 
system, with its infinity of details, into style. We 
have been civilizing very fast, building London 
and Paris, and now planting New England and 
India, New Holland and Oregon, — and it has not 
appeared in literature ; there has been no analogous 
expansion and recomposition in books. Carlyle's 
style is the first emergence of all this wealth and 
labor with which the world has gone with child so 
long. London and Europe, tunnelled, graded, 
corn-lawed, with trade-nobility, and East and West 
Indies for dependencies ; and America, with the 
Rocky Hills in the horizon, have never before been 
conquered in literature. This is the first invasion 
and conquest. How like an air-balloon or bird of 
Jove does he seem to float over the coutineut, and 



248 PAPi':ns from the dial. 

stooping here and tliere pounce on a fact as a sym- 
bol which was never a symbol before. This is the 
first experiment, anil something of rudeness and 
liaste nuist be pardoned to so great an achievement. 
It will be done again and again, sharper, simpler ; 
but fortunate is he who did it first, though never so 
giant-like and fabulous. This grandiose character 
pervades his wit and his imagination. We have 
never had anything in literature so like earthquakes 
as the laughter of Carlyle. He " shakes with his 
mountain mirth." It is like the laughter of the 
Genii in the horizon. These jokes shake down 
Parliament-house and Windsor Castle, Temple and 
Tower, and the future shall echo the dangerous 
peals. The other particular of magnificence is in 
his rhymes. Carlyle is a poet who is altogether 
too burly in his frame and habit to submit to the 
limits of metre. Yet he is full of rhythm, not only 
in the perpetual melody of his periods, but in the 
burdens, refrains, and grand returns of his sense 
and nuisic. Whatever thought or motto has once 
appeared to him fraught with meaning, becomes an 
omen to him henceforward, and is sure to return 
with deeper tones and weightier import, now as 
threat, now as confirmation, in gigantic reverbera- 
tion, as if the hills, the horizon, and the next ages 
returned the sound. 



A LETTER. 249 

VII. 

A LETTER.i 

As we are very liahlo, in common with the 
letter- writing world, to fall behind - hand in our 
correspondence ; and a little more liable because in 
consequence of our editorial function we receive 
more epistles than our individual share, we have 
thought that we might clear our account by writing 
a quai-terly catholic letter to all and several who 
have honored us, in verse or prose, with their confi- 
dence, and expressed a curiosity to know our opin- 
ion. We shall be compelled to dispose very rap- 
idly of quite miscellaneous topics. 

And first, in regard to the writer who has given 
us his specidations on Rail-roads and Air-roads, our 
correspondent shall have his own way. To the rail- 
way, we must say, — like the courageous lord mayor 
at his first hunting, when told the hare was com- 
ing, — " Let it come, in Heaven's name, I am not 
afraid on 't. " Very unlooked-for political and so- 
cial effects of the iron road are fast appearing. It 
will require an expansion of the police of the old 
world. When a rail-road train shoots through Eu- 
rope every day from Brussels to Vienna, from 
Vienna to Constantinople, it cannot stop every 
1 The Dial, vol. iv. p. 202. 



250 iwri'ins hiioM Tin: dial. 

Iwoiity oi' ililriy inik'S at ii (loniuin ciistoin-house, 
for oxami nation of property and passports. Hut 
wIuMj our conospondont proceeds to flying-machines, 
we lia.v(^ no longiu* tlie smallest taper-light of credi- 
ble information and experience left, and nuist speak 
on a priori grounds. 

Shortly then, wv iliinlc the population is not yet 
quite lit for them, and therefore there will bii 
none. Our friend suggests so many inconveniences 
from j)iracy out of the high air to orchards and 
lone houses, and also to otluM* high iliers ; and 
the total inadequacy of the present system of de- 
fence, that we have not the heart to break the 
sleep of the good i)ublic by the repetition of these 
details. When children come into the library, 
we })ut the inkstand and the watch on the high 
shelf until they be a little older ; and Nature has 
S(*t the sun and moon in plain sight and use, but 
laid them on tlu^ high shelf where her roystering 
boys may not in some mad Saturday afternoon 
})nll them down or burn their lingers. The sea 
and the iron road are safer toys for such ungrown 
people ; we are not yet ripe to be birds. 

In the next jdace, to iifteen letters on Conmmni- 
ties, and the l*ros})ects of Culture, and the destin- 
ies of the cultivated class, — what answer ? Excel- 
lent reasons have becni shown us why the writers, 
obviously persons of sincerity luid elegance, should 



A r.ETTKIl. 251 

1)0 (lissatisliod with llio lifo tlioy load, and with 
tlioir 0()iii])aiiy. Tlioy liavo oxhaustcHl all its bonc- 
fit, and will not boar it nuioli longcu'. Kxoollont 
roasons tlioy liavo sliown why .soniothing' bettor 
shonld bo triod. Thoy want a friond to whom thoy 
can spoak and from whom thoy may hoar now and 
thon a roasonablo word. Thoy aro willing; to work, 
so it bo with frionds. TJioy do not ontortain any- 
thing absnrd or oven diftionlt. Thoy do not wish 
to forco socioty into hated reforms, nor to break 
with society. They do not wish a townsliij), or 
any large (expenditure, or incorporated association, 
but sim])ly a contn^ntration of chosen people. By 
the slightest possible conc(n't, persevered in through 
fonr or five years, they think tliat a neighborhood 
miglit be formed of friends who would i)rovoke 
each other to the best activity, Tluey believe that 
this society would (ill u[» the terrific^ cliasm of ennui, 
and would give their genius tliat ins2)iration wliich 
it seems to wait in vain. 

But, ' the s(elfishness ! ' One of the writers 
relontingly says, " What shall my uncles and aunts 
do witliout mo? " and desires distinctly to bo under- 
stood not to propose the Indian mode of giving 
decrepit relatives as much of the mud of holy 
Ganges as they can swallow, and more, but to be- 
gin the enterprise of concentration by concentrating 
all uncles and aunts in one delightful village by 



252 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

themselves ! — so heedless is our coiTesj)ondent of 
putting all the dough into one pan, and all the 
leaven into another. Another objection seems to 
have occurred to a subtle but ardent advocate. Is 
it, he writes, a too great wilfulness and intermed- 
dling with life, — with life, which is better accepted 
than calculated ? Perhaps so ; but let us not be 
too curiously good. The Buddhist is a practical 
Necessitarian ; the Yankee is not. We do a great 
many selfish things every day ; among them all let 
us do one thing of enlightened selfishness. It were 
fit to forbid concert and calculation in this particu- 
lar, if that were our system, if we were up to the 
mark of self-denial and faith in our general activity. 
But to be prudent in aU the particulars of life, and 
in this one thing alone religiously forbearing ; pru- 
dent to secure to ourselves an injurious society, 
temptations to folly and despair, degrading exam- 
ples, and enemies; and only abstinent when it is 
proposed to provide ourselves with guides, examples, 
lovers ! 

We shall hardly trust ourselves to reply to argu- 
ments by which we would too gladly be persuaded. 
The more discontent, the better we like it. It is 
not for nothing, we assure ourselves, that our people 
are busied with these projects of a better social 
state, and that sincere persons of all parties are de- 
manding somewhat vital and poetic of our stagnant 



A LETTER. 253 

society. How fantastic and unpresentable soever 
the theory has hitherto seemed, how swiftly shrink- 
ing from the examination of practical men, let us 
not lose the warning of that most significant dream. 
How joyfully we have felt the admonition of larger 
natures which despised our aims and pursuits, con- 
scious that a voice out of heaven spoke to us in 
that scorn. But it would be unjust not to remind 
our younger friends that whilst this aspiration has 
always made its mark in the lives of men of 
thought, in vigorous individuals it does not remain 
a detached object, but is satisfied along with the 
satisfaction of other aims. To live solitary and 
unexpressed, is painful, — painful in proportion to 
one's consciousness of ripeness and equality to the 
offices of friendship. But herein we are never 
quite forsaken by the Divine Providence. The 
loneliest man, after twenty years, discovers that he 
stood in a circle of friends, who will then show like 
a close fraternity held by some masonic tie. But 
we are impatient of the tedious introductions of 
Destiny, and a little faithless, and would venture 
something to accelerate them. One thing is plain, 
that discontent and the luxury of tears will bring 
nothing to pass. Regrets and Bohemian castles 
and aesthetic villages are not a very seK-helping 
class of productions, but are the voices of debility. 
Especially to one importunate correspondent we 



254 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

must say that there is no chance for the aesthetic 
village. Every one of the villagers has committed 
his several blunder ; his genius was good, his stars 
consenting, but he was a marplot. And though 
the recuperative force in every man may be relied 
on infinitely, it must be relied on before it will 
exert itself. As long as he sleeps in the shade of 
the present error, the after-nature does not betray 
its resources. AYhilst he dwells in the old sin, he 
will pay the old fine. 

More letters we have on the subject of the posi- 
tion of young men, which accord well enough with 
what we see and hear. There is an American dis- 
ease, a paralysis of the active faculties, which falls 
on young men of this country as soon as they 
have finished their college education, which strips 
them of all manly aims and bereaves them of ani- 
mal spirits ; so that the noblest youths are in a few 
years converted into pale Caryatides to uphold the 
temple of conventions. They are in the state of 
the young Persians, when "that mighty Yezdam 
prophet" addressed them and said, "Behold the 
signs of evil days are come ; there is now no longer 
any right course of action, nor any self-devotion left 
among the Iranis." As soon as they have arrived 
at this term, there are no employments to satisfy 
them, they are educated above the work of their 
times and country, and disdain it. Many of the 



A LETTER. 255 

more acute minds pass into a lofty criticism of these 
things, which only embitters their sensibility to the 
evil and widens the feeling of hostility between 
them and the citizens at large. From this cause, 
companies of the best-educated young men in the 
Atlantic states every week take their departure for 
Europe ; for no business that they have in that coun- 
try, but simply because they shall so be hid from 
the reproachful eyes of their countrymen and agree- 
ably entertained for one or two years, with some 
lurking hope, no doubt, that something may turn 
up to give them a decided direction. It is easy to 
see that this is only a postponement of their proper 
work, with the additional disadvantage of a two 
years' vacation. Add that this class is rapidly in- 
creasing by the infatuation of the active class, who, 
whilst they regard these young Athenians with sus- 
picion and dislike, educate their own children in 
the same courses, and use all possible endeavors to 
secure to them the same result. 

Certainly v/e are not insensible to this calamity, 
as described by the observers or witnessed by our- 
selves. It is not quite new and peculiar; though 
we should not know where to find in literature any 
record of so much unbalanced intellectuality, such 
undeniable apprehension without talent, so much 
power without equal applicability, as our young 
men pretend to. Yet in Theodore Mundt's account 



256 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL, 

of Frederic Holderlin's " Hyperion," we were not 
a little struck with the following Jeremiad of the 
despair of Germany, whose tone is still so familiar 
that we were somewhat mortified to find that it was 
written in 1799. " Then came I to the Germans. 
I cannot conceive of a people more disjoined than 
the Germans. Mechanics you shall see, but no man. 
Is it not like some battle-field, where hands and 
arms and all members lie scattered about, whilst 
the life-blood runs away into the sand ? Let every 
man mind his own, you say, and I say the same. 
Only let him mind it with all his heart, and not 
with this cold study, literally, hypocritically, to ap- 
pear that which he passes for, — but in good ear- 
nest, and in all love, let him be that which he is ; 
then there is a soul in his deed. And is he driven 
into a circumstance where the spirit must not live ? 
Let him thrust it from him with scorn, and learn 
to dig and plough. There is nothing holy which is 
not desecrated, which is not degraded to a mean end 
among this people. It is heartrending to see your 
poet, your artist, and all who still revere genius, 
who love and foster the Beautiful. The Good ! 
They live in the world as strangers in their own 
house ; they are like the patient Ulysses whilst he 
sat in the guise of a beggar at his own door, whilst 
shameless rioters shouted in the hall and asked, 
Who brought the ragamuffin here ? Full of love, 



A LETTER. 257 

talent and hope, spring up the darlings of the muse 
among the Germans ; some seven years later, and 
they flit about like ghosts, cold and silent ; they are 
like a soil which an enemy has sown with poison, 
that it will not bear a blade of grass. On earth all 
is imperfect ! is the old proverb of the German. 
Aye, but if one should say to these God-forsaken, 
that with them all is imperfect only because they 
leave nothing pure which they do not pollute, noth- 
ing holy which they do not defile with their fum- 
bling hands ; that with them nothing prospers be- 
cause the godlike nature which is the root of all 
prosperity they do not revere ; that with them, truly, 
life is shallow and anxious and full of discord, be- 
cause they despise genius, which brings power and 
nobleness into manly action, cheerfulness into en- 
durance, and love and brotherhood into towns and 
houses. Where a people honors genius in its ar- 
tists, there breathes like an atmosphere a universal 
soul, to which the shy sensibility opens, which melts 
self-conceit, — all hearts become pious and great, 
and it adds fire to heroes. The home of all men is 
with such a people, and there will the stranger glad- 
ly abide. But where the divine nature and the ar- 
tist is crushed, the sweetness of life is gone, and 
every other planet is better than the earth. Men 
deteriorate, folly increases, and a gross mind with 
it; drunkenness comes with a disaster; with the 



258 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

wantonness o£ the tongue and with the anxiety for 
a livelihood the blessing of every year becomes a 
curse, and all the gods depart." 

The steep antagonism between the money-getting 
and the academic class must be freely admitted, and 
perhaps is the more violent, that whilst our work is 
imposed by the soil and the sea, our culture is the 
tradition of Europe. But we cannot share the des- 
peration of our contemporaries ; least of all should 
we think a preternatural enlargement of the intel- 
lect a calamity. A new perception, the smallest new 
activity given to the perceptive power, is a victory 
won to the living universe from Chaos and old 
Night, and cheaply bought by any amounts of hard 
fare and false social position. The balance of mind 
and body will redress itself fast enough. Super- 
ficialness is the real distemper. In all the cases we 
have ever seen where people were supposed to suf- 
fer from too much wit, or, as men said, from a blade 
too sharp for the scabbard, it turned out that they 
had not wit enough. It may easily happen that we 
are grown very idle, and must go to work, and that 
the times must be worse before they are better. It 
is very certain that speculation is no succedaneum 
for life. What we would know, we must do. As 
if any taste or imagination could take the place of 
fidelity ! The old Duty is the old God. And we 
may come to this by the rudest teaching. A friend 



A LETTER. 259 

of ours went five years ago to Illinois to buy a farm 
for his son. Though there were crowds of emi- 
grants in the roads, the country was open on both 
sides, and long intervals between hamlets and houses. 
Now after ^ve years he had just been to visit the 
young farmer and see how he prospered, and reports 
that a miracle had been wrought. From Massachu- 
setts to Illinois the land is fenced in and builded 
over, almost like New England itself, and the proofs 
of thrifty cultivation abound; — a result not so 
much owing to the natural increase of j^opulation, 
as to the hard times, which, driving men out of 
cities and trade, forced them to take off their coats 
and go to work on the land ; which has rewarded 
them not only with wheat but with habits of labor. 
Perhaps the adversities of our commerce have not 
yet been pushed to the wholes omest degree of sever- 
ity. Apathies and total want of work, and reflec- 
tion on the imaginative character of American life, 
etc., etc., are like seasickness, and never wiU obtain 
any sympathy if there is a wood-pile in the yard, or 
an unweeded patch in the garden ; not to mention 
the graver absurdity of a youth of noble aims who 
can find no field for his energies, whilst the colossal 
\vrongs of the Indian, of the Negro, of the emigrant, 
remain unmitigated, and the religious, civil and 
judicial forms of the country are confessedly effete 
and offensive. We must refer our clients back to 



260 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

themselves, believing that every man knows in his 
heart the cure for the disease he so ostentatiously 
bewails. 

As far as our correspondents have entangled their 
private griefs with the cause of American Literature, 
we counsel them to disengage themselves as fast as 
possible. In Cambridge orations and elsewhere 
there is much inquiry for that great absentee Amer- 
ican Literature. What can have become of it? 
The least said is best. A literature is no man's 
private concern, but a secular and generic result, 
and is the affair of a power which works by a prod- 
igality of life and force very dismaying to behold, 
— every trait of beauty purchased by hecatombs of 
private tragedy. The pruning in the wild gardens 
of nature is never forborne. Many of the best 
must die of consumption, many of despair, and 
many be stupid and insane, before the one great and 
fortunate life which they each predicted can shoot 
up into a thrifty and beneficent existence. 

VIII. 

THE TRAGIC.i 

He has seen but half the universe who never has 
been shewn the house of Pain. As the salt sea 

1 From the course on " Human Life," read in Boston, 
1839-40. PubUshed in The Dial, vol. iv. p. 515. 



THE TRAGIC. 261 

covers more than two-thirds of the surface of the 
globe, so sorrow encroaches in man on felicity. 
The conversation of men is a mixture of regrets 
and apprehensions. I do not know but the preva- 
lent hue of things to the eye of leisure is melan- 
choly. In the dark hours, our existence seems to 
be a defensive war, a struggle against the encroach- 
ing All, which threatens surely to engulf us soon, 
and is impatient of our short reprieve. How slen- 
der the possession that yet remains to us; how 
faint the animation ! how the spirit seems abeady 
to contract its douiain, retiring within narrower 
walls by the loss of memory, leaving its planted 
fields to erasure and annihilation. Already our 
own thoughts and words have an alien sound. 
There is a simultaneous diminution of memory and 
hope. Projects that once we laughed and leapt to 
execute, find us now sleepy and preparing to lie 
down in the snow. And in the serene hours we 
have no courage to spare. We cannot afford to let 
go any advantages. The riches of body or of mind 
which we do not need to-day, are the reserved fund 
against the calamity that may arrive to-morrow. It 
is usually agreed that some nations have a more 
sombre temperament, and one would say that his- 
tory gave no recorci oi any society m which de- 
spondency came so readily to heart as we see it and 
feel it in ours. Melancholy cleaves to the English 



202 rArj':ns from TUh: niAL. 

mind 111 botli lioiiiisplievos as closely as to the 
strlii«»s of an il^^olian harp. Men and women at 
thirty years, and even earlier, have lost all spring' 
and vivacity, and if they fail in their first enter- 
prizes they throw up the game. But whether we 
and those who are next to us are more or less vul- 
nerable, no theory of life can have any right which 
leaves out of account the values of vice, pain, 
disease, poverty, insecurity, disunion, fear and 
death. 

What are the conspicuous tragic elements in hu- 
man nature ? The bitterest tragic clement in life to 
be derived from an intellectual source is the belief 
in a brute Fate or Destiny ; the belief that the 
order of nature and events is controlled by a law 
not adapted to man, nor man to that, but which 
holds on its way to the end, serving him if his 
wishes chance to lie in the same course, crushing 
him if his wishes lie contrary to it, and heedless 
whether it serves or crushes him. This is the 
terrible meaning that lies at the foundation of the 
old Greek tragedy, and makes the G^]dipus and 
Antigone and Orestes objects of such hopeless com- 
miseration. They must perish, and there is no over- 
god to stop or to mollify this hideous enginery that 
grinds or thunders, and snatches them up into its 
terrific system. The same idea makes the paralyz- 
ing terror with which the East Indian mythology 



77//'; TUAdK!. 203 

haiintH tlio imagination. Tlic Hani(3 tlioiiglil; ih ilic, 
predestination of the Turk. And miivci.sally, in 
uneducated and unreflecting perwonH on whf)m too 
the religious Hcntimcnt exerts little forc(i, w(; dln- 
cover traits of tlu; same superstition: "Jf you 
baulk water you will be drowned tlie next time ; " 
"if you count ten stars you will fall down dead ; " 
"if you spill the salt;" " if yoni- fork sticks up- 
right in the floor ; " " if you say tin; Lord's prayei- 
backwards ; " — and so on, a s(5veral jxinalty, nowis(5 
grounded in the nature of the thing, but on an ar}>i- 
trary will. \\\\\> this terror of contravening an lui- 
ascei-tained and unjis(MU'tairiable will, cannot co-(;xist 
with reflection: it disappears with civilization, and 
can no more be reprodu(;ed than the f(;ai' of ghosts 
after childhood. It is discriminated from tlic doc- 
trine of Philoso|)hical Necessity herein : that tlu; 
last is an r)ptlmisrn, and therefon; the suffering 
individual finrls his good consulted in the good of 
all, of which Ikj is a part. But in destiny, it is not 
the good of th(3 whole or tin; hoM vrlll that is en- 
acted, but only ova 'partindar vrUl. Destiny prop- 
erly is not a will at all, but an immense whim ; 
and this the only ground of terror and despair in 
the rational mind, and of tragedy in litcjrature. 
Hence the antique tragedy, wliich was foinidcd on 
this faith, can never be reproduced. 

After reason and faith have introduced a better 



264 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

piil)Ho jind private tradition, tlio tra<;ic clement is 
Konicwliat circumscribed. There must always re- 
main, however, the hindrance of our private satis- 
faction by the laws of the world. The law which 
establishes ntiture and the luunan race, continually 
tliwarts the will of ignorant individuals, and this in 
the particulars of disease, want, insecurity and dis- 
union. 

But the essence of tragedy does not seem to me 
to lie in any list of particular evils. After we have 
enumerated famine, fever, inaptitude, mutilation, 
rack, madness and loss of friends, we have not yet 
included the proper tragic element, which is Terror, 
and which docs not respect definite evils but indefi- 
nite ; an ominous spirit which haunts the after- 
noon and the night, idleness and solitude. 

A low, haggard sprite sits by our side, " casting 
the fashion of uncertain evils " — a sinister present- 
iment, a power of the imagination to dislocate 
things orderly and cheerful and show them in start- 
ling array. ITark! what sounds on the night wind, 
the cry of Murder in that friendly house ; sec these 
marks of stamping feet, of hidden riot. The whis- 
per overheard, the detected glance, the glare of 
malignity, ungrounded fears, suspicions, half -knowl- 
edge and mistakes, darken the brow and chill the 
heart of men. And accordingly it is natures not 
clear, not of quick and steady perceptions, but im- 



THE TRAGTC, 2C5 

perfect characters from which somewhat is hidden 
that all others see, who suffer most from these 
causes. In those persons who move the profoundest 
pity, tragedy seems to consist in temperament, not 
in events. There are people who have an appetite 
for giief, pleasure is not strong enough and they 
crave pain, mithridatic stomachs which must be fed 
on poisoned bread, natures so doomed that no pros- 
perity can soothe their ragged and dishevelled des- 
olation. They mis-hear and mis-behold, they sus- 
pect and dread. They handle every nettle and ivy 
in the hedge, and tread on every snake in the 
meadow. 

" Come bad chance, 
And we add to it our strength, 
And we teach it ai-t and length. 
Itself o'er us to advance." 

Frankly, then, it is necessary to say that all 
sorrow dwells in a low region. It is superficial ; 
for the most part fantastic, or in the appearance 
and not in things. Tragedy is in the eye of the 
observ^er, and not in the heart of the sufferer. 
It looks like an insupportable load under which 
earth moans aloud. But analyze it ; it is not I, 
it is not you, it is always another person who is 
tormented. If a man says, Lo I I suffer — it is 
apparent that he suffers not, for grief is dumb. 
It is so flistributed as not to destroy. That 



266 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL, 

which would rend you falls on tougher textures. 
That which seems intolerable reproach or bereave- 
ment, does not take from the accused or bereaved 
man or woman appetite or sleep. Some men are 
above grief, and some below it. Few are capa- 
ble of love. In plilegmatic natures calamity is 
unaffecting, in shallow natures it is rhetorical. 
Tragedy must be somewhat which I can respect. 
A querulous habit is not tragedy. A panic such 
as frequently in ancient or savage nations put a 
troop or an army to flight without an enemy ; a 
fear of ghosts ; a terror of freezing to death that 
seizes a man in a winter midnight on the moors ; 
a fright at uncertain sounds heard by a family at 
night in the cellar or on the stairs, — are terrors 
that make the knees knock and the teeth clatter, 
but are no tragedy, any more than seasickness, 
which may also destroy life. It is full of illusion. 
As it comes, it has its support. The most exposed 
classes, soldiers, sailors, paupers, are nowise desti- 
tute of animal spirits. The spirit is true to it- 
self, and finds its own support in any condition, 
learns to live in what is called calamity as easily 
as in what is called felicity ; as the frailest glass- 
beU will support a weight of a thousand pounds of 
water at the bottom of a river or sea, if filled with 
the same. 

A man should not commit his tranquillity to 



THE TRAGIC. 267 

things, but should keep as much as possible the 
reins in his own hands, rarely giving way to ex- 
treme emotion of joy or grief. It is observed 
that the earliest works of the art of sculpture 
are countenances of sublime tranquillity. The 
Egyptian sphinxes, which sit to-day as they sat 
when the Greek came and saw them and departed, 
and when the Eoman came and saw them and 
departed, and as they will still sit when the Turk, 
the Frenchman and the Englishman, who visit 
them now, shall have passed by, — " with their 
stony eyes fixed on the East and on the Nile," have 
countenances expressive of complacency and repose, 
an expression of health, deserving their longevity, 
and verifying the primeval sentence of history on 
the permanency of that people, " Their strength is 
to sit still." To this architectural stability of the 
human form, the Greek genius added an ideal 
beauty, without disturbing the seals of serenity ; 
permitting no violence of mirth, or wrath, or 
suffering. This was true to human nature. For, 
in life, actions are few, opinions even few, prayers 
few ; loves, hatreds, or any emissions of the soul. 
All that life demands of us through the greater 
part of the day, is an equilibrium, a readiness, 
open eyes and ears, and free hands. Society 
asks this, and truth, and love, and the genius of 
our life. There is a fire in some men which de- 



2G8 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

luaiids an outlet in some rude action ; tliey betray 
their impatience of quiet by an irregular Catali- 
narian gait ; by irregular, faltering, disturbed 
speech, too emphatic for the occasion. They treat 
trifles with a tragic air. This is not beautiful. 
Could they not lay a rod or two of stone wall, 
and work oft' this superabundant irritability? 
When two strangers meet in the highway, what 
each demands of the other is that the aspect 
should shew a Arm mind, ready for any event of 
good or ill, prepared alike to give death or to 
give life, as the emergency of the next moment 
may require. We must wallt as guests in nature ; 
not impassioned, but cool and disengaged. A 
man should try Time, and his face should wear 
the expression of a just judge, who has nowise 
made up his opinion, who fears nothing, and even 
hopes nothing, but who puts nature and fortune 
on their merits: he will hear the case out, and 
then decide. For all melancholy, as all passion, 
belongs to the exterior life. Whilst a nitin is 
not grounded in the divine life by his proper 
roots, he clings by some tendrils of aft'ection to 
society — mayhap to what is best and greatest in 
it, and in calm times it will not appear that he 
is adrift and not moored ; but let any shock take 
place in society, any revolution of custom, of law, 
of opinion, and at once his type of permanence 



THE TEA aw. 269 

is shaken. The disorder of his neighbors ap- 
pears to him universal disorder ; chaos is come 
again. But in truth he was aheady a driving 
wreck, before the wind arose which only revealed 
to him his vagabond state. If a man is centred, 
men and events appear to him a fair image or 
reflection of that which he knowcth beforehand 
in himself. If any perversity or profligacy break 
out in society, he will join with others to avert 
the mischief, but it will not arouse resentment 
or fear, because he discerns its impassable limits. 
He sees already in the ebullition of sin the simul- 
taneous redress. 

Particular reliefs also, fit themselves to human 
calamities ; for the world will be in equilibrium, 
and hates all manner of exaggeration. 

Time, the consoler. Time, the rich carrier of all 
changes, dries the freshest tears by obtruding new 
figures, new costumes, new roads, on our eye, new 
voices on our ear. As the west wind lifts up 
again the heads of the wheat which were bent 
down and lodged in the storm, and combs out 
the matted and dishevelled grass as it lay in 
night-locks on the ground, so we let in time as a 
drying wind into the seed-field of thoughts which 
are dark and wet and low bent. Time restores 
to them temper and elasticity. How fast we for- 
get the blow that threatened to cripple us. Nar 



270 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

ture will not sit still ; the faculties will do some- 
what; new hopes spring, new affections twine and 
the broken is whole again. 

Time consoles, but Temperament resists the 
impression of pain. Nature proportions her de- 
fence to the assault. Our human being is won- 
derfully plastic ; if it cannot win this satisfaction 
here, it makes itself amends by running out there 
and winning that. It is like a stream of water, 
which if dammed up on one bank, overruns the 
other, and flows equally at its own convenience 
over sand, or mud, or marble. Most suffering is 
only apparent. We fancy it is torture ; the patient 
has his own compensations. A tender American 
girl doubts of Divine Providence whilst she reads 
the horrors of " the middle passage ; " and they 
are bad enough at the mildest ; but to such as 
she these crucifixions do not come : they come to 
the obtuse and barbarous, to whom they are not 
horrid, but only a little worse than the old suf- 
ferings. They exchange a cannibal war for the 
stench of the hold. They have gratifications 
which would be none to the civilized girl. The 
market-man never damned the lady because she 
had not paid her bill, but the stout Irishwoman 
has to take that once a month. She however 
never feels weakness in her back because of the 
slave-trade. This self-adapting strength is espe- 



THE TRAGIC. 271 

cially seen in disease. " It is my duty," says Sir 
Charles Bell, " to visit certain wards of the hos- 
pital where there is no patient admitted but with 
that complaint which most fills the imagination 
with the idea of insupportable pain and certain 
death. Yet these wards are not the least re- 
markable for the composure and cheerfulness of 
their inmates. The individual who suffers has a 
mysterious counterbalance to that condition, which, 
to us who look upon her, appears to be attended 
with no alleviating circumstance." Analogous 
supplies are made to those individuals whose char- 
acter leads them to vast exertions of body and 
mind. Napoleon said to one of his friends at 
St. Helena, " Nature seems to have calculated 
that I should have great reverses to endure, for 
she has given me a temperament like a block of 
marble. Thunder cannot move it; the shaft 
merely glides along. The great events of my life 
have slipped over me without making any demand 
on my moral or physical nature." 

The intellect is a consoler, which delights in de- 
taching or putting an interval between a man and 
his fortune, and so converts the sufferer into a spec- 
tator and his pain into poetry. It yields the joys 
of conversation, of letters and of science. Hence 
also the torments of life become tuneful tragedy, 
solemn and soft with music, and garnished with rich 



272 PAPERS FROM THE DIAL. 

dark pictures. But higher still than the activities 
of art, the intellect in its purity and the moral sense 
in its purity are not distinguished from each other, 
and both ravish us into a region whereinto these 
passionate clouds of sorrow cannot rise. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Note. Titles of essays and poems are in small capitals. The followiug list 
gives the titles of the volumes to which the Roman numerals refer : — 

VIII Letters and Social aims,- 
IX. Poems. 
X. Lectures and Biographical 

Sketches. 
XL Miscellanies. 

XII. Natural History op the In- 
tellect. 



I. Nature, Addresses, and Lec- 
tures. 
II. Essays, First Series. 

III. Essays, Second Series. 

IV. Representative Men. 
V. English Traits. 

VI. Conduct of Life. 
VII. Society and Solitude. 

Abandonment, no greatness without, 
vii. 173 ; the way of life, ii. 300. 

Abdel Kader, and Daumas, vii. 256; 
on nobility, vi. 170. 

Able men, have respect for justice, i. 
160 ; ask only for ability, no matter 
of what kind, iv. 256. 

Abolition, bigot in, ii. 53 ; the church 
appears in, iii. 239; church hostile 
to, X. 114 ; shadow of Clarkson, ii. 
62 ; conventions, ii. 129 ; effect of, 
xi. 132 ; trausceudentalists and, i. 
328, 329. See below. 

Abolitionist, every man an, xi. 106, 
236 ; farmer the true, vii. 137 ; love 
the arch-, xi. 263 ; made by slavery, 
xi. 263. 

Aboriginal man not an engaging fig- 
ure, viii. 256. 

Aboriginal power, ii. 333 ; \i. 73. 

Aboriginal races, incapable of im- 
provement, xii. 24. 

Aboriginal, the State not, iii. 191. 

Absolve you to yourself, ii. 52. 

Absolute and relative, iv. 144. 

Abstemious, of criticism, vii. 173 ; spir- 
it's teachings are, iv. 134. 

Abstemiousness, quiddling, vi. 148. 

Abstinence, i. 205. 

Abstract truth, free from local and 
personal reference, u. 304, 309. 

Abstraction, of scholars, viii. 273. 

Abstractionists, Nature furnishes, iii. 
226 ; iv. 148, 149. 

Absurdity, difference from me, the 
measure of, iv. 29. 

Abu Ali Seeua, iv. 93. 

Abu Taleb, vi. 258. 



Abul Khain, iv. 93. 

Abury, temple at, v. 263, 266. 

Abuses block the ways to lucrative 
employments, i. 220. 

Abyss, replies to abyss, vii. 164 ; of be- 
ing, ii. 116 ; iv. 84. 

Accidents, not to be feared, vi. 221 ; 
insurance oflSce increases, ii. 84 ; 
there are no, vii. 127 ; lovely, of na- 
ture, iii. 221 ; resisting, vi. 29. 

Accomplishments, vi. 138 ; of the 
scholar, x. 265. 

Accuracy essential to beauty, x. 145. 

Achievement, power of, x. 264; not 
computed by time, ii. 296. 

Achilles, in every nation, vii. 241 ; vul- 
nerable, ii. 103. 

Achromatic lens, needful to see real- 
ity, X. 162. 

Acorn, a thousand forests in one, ii. 
10. 

Acquaintances, high, the great happi- 
ness of life, vii. 288. 

Acquainted, be not too much, iii. 133. 

Acre, cleave to thine, vi. 232 ; my, ix. 
126. 

Acres, black, of the night, ix. 283; 
mystic fruit, 127 ; sitfast, 36. 

Acrostic, a character like, ii. 59, 141. 

Action, Actions, honest and natu- 
ral, agree, ii. 59 ; transfigured as 
thoughts, i. 97 ; of infinite elastici- 
ty, ii. 55 ; dispose to greater con- 
clusions, ui. 186 ; not rashly ex- 
plained, 106 ; future not to be 
decided beforehand, xi. 196 ; iudif- 
ferency of, ii. 296 ; in hfe, few, xii. 
267 ; what are called good, ii. 54 ; 



274 



GENERAL INDEX. 



X. 254 ; great, do not let us go be- 
hind them, ii. 236 ; heroic, are beau- 
tiful, i. 25 ; original, necessary, x. 
254 ; steps to power, ii. 285 ; a trick 
of the senses, 154 ; we shrink from 
actions of our own, xi. 404 ; not m- 
different, ii. 116, 296; tlieir influ- 
ence not measured by miles, iii. 76 ; 
inscribe themselves, iv. 249; inte- 
grate themselves, ii. 100; intellec- 
tual quality, vi. 151 ; we put our 
life in, ii. 99; magnetism of, 64; 
leave no mark in the world, i. 264 ; 
measured by depth of sentiment, ii. 
147; iv. 255; mechanical, ii. 129; 
men of, iv. 144, 254; men wanted 
more than, i. 264 ; and misaction, 
X. 255 ; natural, i. 25 ; every neces- 
sary action pleases, vi. 276 ; Nelson 
on, viii. 291 ; are pearls to discourse, 
i. 96 ; need perspective, ii. 11 ; pic- 
ture-book of creed, viii. 27 ; a great 
pleasure, vii, 42 ; is prayer, ii. 77 ; 
reaction, 94 ; resounding, iii. 44 ; a 
resource, i. 99 ; satellites to nature, 
44 ; essential to scholar, i. 95 ; self- 
rewarding, ii. 100 ; is in silent mo- 
ments, 152 ; right speech not distin- 
guished from, viii. 94 ; spontaneous, 
strong, ii. 132, 306 ; iii. 51, 70; steps 
in ladder, ii. 285; should rest on 
substance, iii. 100 ; partiality, the 
tax on, iv. 254 ; timely, ii. 216 ; 
with the scholar subordinate but es- 
sential, i. 95 ; be not cowed by the 
name of, ii. 154 ; not overdoing and 
busy-ness, x. 254 ; and thought, iv. 
254 ; not better than verses or pic- 
tures, xii. 207 ; give vocabulary, i. 
98; preexist in the actor, iii. 96; 
give a return of wisdom, i. 98; ii. 
214. 
Activity, amiable, x. 49 ; children and 
thoughtless people like, 169 ; conta- 
gious, ^v. 18 ; frivolous, x. 254 ; too 
great, vii. 293 ; miscellaneous, to be 
stopped off, vi. 74 ; makes room for 
itself, V. 33. 
Actors, the worst provincial better 

than the best amateur, vi. 78. 
Actual, dwarfish, i. 271 ; Goethe, poet 
of, xii. 195, 197 ; ideal truer than, 
196 ; the imposing, xi. 190. 
Adam, age, ix. 280 ; hide ourselves as, 
iii. 132 ; Milton's, xii. 109, 171 ; ev- 
ery man a new, x. 136 ; i. 79 ; per- 
fect, iii. 213. 
Adamant, of nature, i. 165 ; passes 
into smoke, vii. 140; x. 72; Eng- 
land moves on a splinter of, v. 64 ; 
wax to artist, ii. 335 ; ix. 66. 



Adamantine, bandages, vi. 21 ; govern- 
ment, iii. 254 ; limitations, iv. 131 ; 
necessity, vii. 58 ; syllable, iii. 235. 

Adamhood, ix. 27. 

Adamitic capacity, Webster in his, 
xi. 209. 

Adams, John, courage, xii. 103 ; ele- 
vation, vi. 154,' fame, xii. 110; old 
age, vii. 304 ; patriotism, x. 238 ; 
no backward-creeping crab, xi. 418; 
visit to, vii. 312. 

Adams, John Q., company for kings, 
X. 307 ; courage, xi. 163 ; eloquence, 
ii. 60; vii. 85; audacious indepen- 
dence, xi. 404; on literature, viii. 
120 } reading, 119. 

Adams, Samuel, vii. 113. 

Adaptation, none in man, iii. 60 ; the 
peculiarity of human nature, iv. 154 ; 
of nature, vi. 42 ; we are victims of, 
134. 

Addition, the world not to be analyzed 
by, ii. 316. 

Adirondacs, ix. 159-170. 

Adjustments, Nature's, vi. 41. 

Admetus, ii. 34 ; vii. 108. 

Admiration, strain to express, viii, 85 ; 
not forgiven, xii. 27. 

Adrastia, law of, iii. 85. 

Adsched of Meru, viii. 231. 

Adultery, vi. 16. 

Advance, the history of nature, vi, 39 ; 
xi. 408. 

Advantage, has its tax, ii. 116. 

Advantages, each envies those he has 
not, vi. 139 ; cannot afford to miss, 
X. 71. 

Adventure, love of, vi. 69; xii. 101. 

Adventurer, well-received, vi. 202. 

Adversity, the prosperity of the great, 
vi. 222 ; viii. 220. 

Advertisement, most of life mere, iii. 
75. 

Aeolian Harp, poems, ix. 203-207, 
220 ; dumb, viii. 259 ; in nature, iii. 
106, 168 ; viii. 272 ; ix. 199, 264 ; x. 
129 ; melancholy, xii. 262. 

Aeolus, steam his bag, i. 19. 

Aeons, vi. 83 ; vii. 172 ; ix. 102. 

Aerolites, Shakespeare's, iv. 199. 

Aeschylus, we are civil to, viii. 68 ; in 
earnest, vii. 56 ; Eumenides, iii. 83 ; 
grandest of Greek tragedians, vii. 
189; counterpart in Scott's Bride 
of Lanunermoor, xi. 375; quoted, 
xi. 225. 

Aesop, his price, x. 51 ; knew the real- 
ities of life, vi. 247, 248 ; viii. 9; a 
man of the world, v. 147. 

Aesop's Fables, iii. 35 ; iv. 192. 

Affections, the pathetic region of, vi. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



275 



299 ; beauty, i. 100 ; benefits, vii. 
17 ; exhilaratiou, ii. 183 ; geomet- 
ric, viii. 104; Heraclitus said were 
colored mists, ii. 304 ; increases in- 
teUect, 184 ; viii. 217 ; xii. 41 ; jets, 
ii. 185 ; and memory, xii. 76 ; meta- 
morphosis, ii. 185 ; tent of a night, 
178 ; sweetness of life, 183 ; make 
the web of life, vii. 283 ; essential to 
will, vi. 32 ; associate us, 1. 123 ; vii. 
19, 20. 

Afl&nities, in conversation, ii. 198 ; per- 
ception of, makes the poet, i. 59 ; 
essential to man of the world, iii. 
123; to great men, iv. 43; between 
man and works, xii. 58 ; neglect of, 
ii. 143 ; of persons, 53 ; range, vi. 
132 ; reciprocity, vii. 20 ; of thoughts, 
xii. 21 ; of virtue with itself in dif- 
ferent persons, ii. 186 ; women's, 
iii. 146 ; world enlarged by, vii. 284. 

Affirmative, being is, ii. 110; we love 
the, iv. 163 ; viii. 134 ; class, vi. 72 ; 
forces, vi. 59; good mind chooses, 
xii. 56 ; vii. 289 ; incessant, 291 ; 
love is, 291 ; xii. 56 ; in manners, 
etc., vii. 290; philosophy, x. 234; 
power, 225, 226 ; principle, iii. 49 ; 
sacred, x. 211. 

Afraid, do what you are afraid to do, 
ii. 245. 

Afrasiyab, viii. 229. 

Africa, civilization, xi. 169, 173. See 
' Negro, Slavery. 

Africanization of U. S., xi. 278. 

Afternoon men, ii. 216 ; saunterings, 
i. 158. 

Agamemnon, ii. 28. 

Agaric, self-planting, iii. 27. 

Agassiz, Louis, viii. 208 ; ix. 169 ; mu- 
seum, viii. 146 ; theories, 13 ; xi, 
332. 

Age, old. See Old Age. 

Age, the characteristics of different 
ages, i. 108, 272 ; of the present, 
the interest in familiar things, 110, 
258, 267 ; vi. 9 ; of fops, ix. ISO ; of 
gold, iii. 87 ; ix. 231 ; of omnibus, 
xi. 419; walks about in persons, i. 
251 ; vi. 42 ; of reason in a patty- 
pan, x. 343 ; retrospective, i. 9 ; 
riddle of, vi. 10 ; of analysis, x. 308. 

Ages, of belief, great, vi. 207 ; equiva- 
lence of, viii. 203 ; instruct the 
hours, ii. 10 ; ideas work in, xi. 187 ; 
not idle, i. 293. 

Agiochook, i. 104 ; ix. 72. 

Agitation, blessed, xi. 415. 

Agitators, i. 270. 

Agricultural Report, xii. 221. 

Agriculture, praise of, i. 346 ; attacks 



on, 240; aids civilization, vii. 26, 
146 ; Euglisli, v. 95, 181 ; check on 
nomadism, ii. 26 ; oldest ijrofession, 
i. 229 ; respect for, 225, 359 ; vii. 
133 ; steam in, v. 95 ; thrift in, ii. 
221. See, also, Farming. 

Agriculture op Massachusetts, xii. 
219-224. 

Aids, casting off, iii. 247 ; xi. 222. 

Aim, high, i. 206; iii. 254; vi. 221; 
X. 66; aggrandizes the means, vii. 
257 ; men of, x. 42 ; mind own, ix. 
32 ; want of, vi. 199. 

Air, artful, Lx. 157 ; exhalation, xii. 
85 ; fame, ix. 190 ; food of life, xii. 
85 ; gifts, X. 72 ; inspiration, iii. 33 ; 
intellectual, vii. 164 ; effect on man- 
ners, xii. 85 ; is matter subdued by 
heat, vii. 140 ; full of men, vi. 22 ; 
moral sentiment in, i. 48 ; music, 
iii. 13 ; an ocean, i. 18 ; receptacle, 
vii. 140 ; of mountains, a good repub- 
lican, xii. 85 ; like a river, u 49 ; 
salubrity, vi. 231 ; coined into song, 
ii. 167 ; sovmds, xii. 30 ; useful and 
hurtful, ii. 316 ; forged into words, 
i. 46 ; works for man, vii. 140 ; 
worth, X. 262. 

Air-ball, thought, \-i. 273. 

Air-bells of fortune, ix. 199. 

Air-lord, poet, iii. 45. 

Air-pictures, iii. 211. 

Air-sown words, ix. 191. 

Airs, logs sing, ii. 214. 

Airs, putting on, xii. 102. 

Aisles, forest, ix. 45 ; monastic, 15 ; of 
Rome, 16. 

Akhlak-y-jalaly, iv. 42. 

Aladdin's lamp, oil, viii. 137. 

Alarmists, vi. 62. 

Alchemy, is in the right direction, vi. 
268. 

Alcibiades, iii. 260. 

Alcott, A. B.,x. 354. 

Alderman, dreariest, vi. 296. 

Alembert, Jean d', quoted, vi. 296 ; 
x. 111. 

Alexander, and Aristotle, x. 290; a 
gentleman, iii. 123 ; x. 300 ; xi. 267 ; 
estimate of life, iii. 200 ; and Napo- 
leon, xii. 203 ; not representative, 
viii. 286 ; victories, xi. 181. 

Alexander of soil, xii. 219. 

Algebra, iii. 34. 38. 

Ali, Caliph, quoted, i. 211 ; ii. 86 ; 
success, X. 60 ; vigor, i. 299. 

All whom he knew, met, viii. 91. 

All-confounding pleasure, ii. 200. 

Allies, best, viii. 219. 

Alliugham, William, quoted, viii. 265. 

AUstou, Washington, Coleridge on, v. 



276 



GENERAL INDEX. 



14, 17 ; design, vii, 50 ; habits, viii, 
275 ; house, vi. 110. 

Almanac, of birds, ix. 154 ; man an, 
vi. 127 ; of mental moods, xii. 10 ; 
Thomas's, 221. See, also, Calendars. 

Alms-giving, i. 122 ; vii. 112. 

Almshouse, world an, ii. 310. 

Alone, ilight of, to the alone, iv. 95 ; 
must go, ii. 71 ; none, vi. 216. 

Alphabet, boy and, viii. 161. 

Alphonso op Castile, ix. 27-29 ; ad- 
vice, iii. 227. 

Alpine air, ix. 158 ; cataracts, 124 ; dis- 
trict, vi. 207. 

Alps, ix. 282 ; Dante etched on, 190 ; 
fires under, 279 ; globe-girdling, 
60 ; landscape, xii. 210 ; love eats 
through, ix. 242 ; pedestals of, 108 ; 
shadow, ii. 140 ; snowy shower, ix. 
295. 

Alternation, law of nature, ii. 189 ; vii. 
213,235; viii. 51, 144, 145. 

Amateurs and practitioners, vi. 79. 

Ambassadors, objects like, xii. 5. 

Amber of memory, ii. 166. 

Ambient cloud, x. 57. 

Ambition, errors from, vi. 20S ; pure, 
lii. 261 ; vii. 118 ; of scholar, i. 167 ; 
thieving, vi. 266 ; ix. 234. 

Amelioration, principle of, i. 352 ; iv. 
38, 79. See Melioration. 

Amen, obsolete, i. 237. 

America, advantages, viii. 102, 197 ; xi. 
328, 418 ; architecture, viii. 202 ; aris- 
tocracy, i. 249 ; arts, ii. 81 ; vii. 59 ; 
bUl of rights, xi. 400; Carlyle on, 
V. 19 ; chanticleer, xi. 330 ; civili- 
zation, viii. 102 ; xi. 153, 327, 419 ; 
clubs, xi. 409; colossal, 327; Con- 
gress, vii. 89 ; Constitution, i. 201 ; 
iii. 202 ; courts, vi. 63 ; crisis, xi. 
399 ; democracy, 408 ; destiny, 325 ; 
discovery, vii. 169 ; xi. 192, 399 ; 
domestic service, vi. 260 ; econo- 
mists, v. 146; education, vii. 116; 
viii. 221 ; xi. 409 ; and England, v. 
55, 117, 119, 146 ; and Europe, ii. 
26 ; vii. 155 ; expensiveness, vi. 201 ; 
extent dazzles the imagination, iii. 
41 ; vi. 243 ; flag, ix. 173, 179 ; xi. 
413 ; fortune, xi. 412 ; genius, iii. 
220 ; V. 39 ; xi. 327 ; the geography 
sublime, the men not, vi. 243 ; viii. 
137 ; government, theory of, xi. 
244, 411, 412 ; growth, xii. 100 ; an 
immense Halifax, xi. 415; history 
short, i. 370 ; idea, v. 272 ; imitative, 
i. 152 ; ii. 81 ; vii. 172 ; xi. 327 ; im- 
migration, X. 232 ; xi. 399 ; a nation 
of individuals, 412 ; influence, i. 350 ; 
institutions, iii. 198 ; landscape, v. 



273 ; life, viii. 137 ; literature opta- 
tive, i. 323 ; xii. 260 ; materialism, 
i. 183; X. 04, 232; xi. 326, 413; 
mendicant, vii. 172 ; names, v. 172 ; 
newness, viii. 202 ; means opportu- 
nity, 98, 137 ; xi. 279, 422 ; a poem, 
iii. 40, 41 ; political economy, xi. 
402 ; politics, viii. 220 ; xi. 329, 401, 
405 ; country of poor men, xi. 408 ; 
progress, vii. 34, 207 ; xi. 412 ; radi- 
calism, iii. 201 ; reform, i. 256 ; xi. 
411 ; religion, x. 203 ; resources, 
viii. 102, 137, 148 ; xi. 404 ; scholar- 
ship, i. 152 ; sentiment, 344 ; want 
of sincerity in leading men, xi. 270 ; 
slavery, see Slavery ; vanity, i. 369 ; 
xi. 412 ; wealth, shame for, v. 149 ; 
women, iii. 145 ; Wordsworth on, v. 
22 ; country of young men, vii. 312. 
See, also, American, Americans, 
United States. 

American Civil War. See under 
United States. 

American Civilization, xi. 275-290. 

American, model, viii. 101 ; x. 429. 

American Revolution, i. 209 ; ix. 185 ; 
xi. 71, 103. 

American Scholar, i. 81-115. 

American, Young, i. 341-372. 

Americanism, shallow, vii. 273. 

Americans, activity, character, xi. 
329 ; conservatism, iii. 201 ; conver- 
sation, v. 112 ; crime no shock to, 
xi. 216 ; deeds, vii. 267 ; depression, 
i. 270; vii. 276; xi. 414; destiny, 
325, 418; value dexterity, 211; 
Dickens on, vi. 167 ; x. 235 ; rely 
on dollar, i. 237 ; dress with good 
sense, viii. 86 , energy, 138 ; con- 
trasted with English, v. 125, 135, 
261, 290 ; xi. 412 ; deference to Eng- 
lish, i. 161, 370; vi. 03; xi. 153, 
415, 416 ; ethics in money-paying, 
X. 64 ; passion for Europe, i. 113, 
343 ; ii. 26, 204 ; vi. 140, 252 ; vii. 
172, 275 ; xi. 415 #; lack faith, i. 
237 ; choked by forms, xi. 244 ; 
fury, 329 ; gentlemen, 419 ; lack 
idealism, 418 ; idlers, 415, 417 ; im- 
pulsiveness, 414 ; independence, xii. 
102; intellect, x. 264, 347; levity, 
244 ; xi. 414 ; life, 417 ; manners, vi. 
167 ; viii. 79 ; melioration, 137 ; and 
New Zealanders, ii. 83 ; perception, 
215 ; poetic genius, iii. 40 ; practi- 
cality, X. 254 ; deaf to principle, xi. 
225; a puny and a fickle folk, i. 
183 ; no purists, x. 64 ; lack repose, 
i. 270 ; vi. 139 ; vii. 270 ; xi. 414 ; 
lack reverence, x. 198 ; self-asser- 
tion, i. 343; xi. 404, 410; sensual- 



GENERAL INDEX. 



211 



ism, 413 ; no sentiment, i. 237 ; 
shop-keepers, xi. 153; society, vii. 
35; viii. iOO, 110; x. 43; sover- 
eigut}', xi. 32G ; speech-making pro- 
pensities, vi. 14G ; students, v. Ii02 ; 
success, vii. 272 ; xi. 414 ; superfi- 
cialness, vi. 11 ; respect for talent, 
iv. 267 ; x. 2G4 ; love of travel, ii. 
79 ; V. 260, 261 : vii. 172 ; xi. 325, 
415 ; youth, vi. 144 ; viii. 84. 

Ames, Fisher, quoted, iii. 202. 

Amici, Prof., v. 12. 

Amita, x. 373, note. 

Amphibious, men are, iii. 219. 

Amphion, iii. 189 ; ix. 230. 

Amphitheatre, Roman, origin of the 
shape, vii. 57 ; xii. 191. 

Amulet, The, Lx. 88. 

Amulets, ix. 33 ; x. 21. 

Amurath, Sultan, iv. 251. 

Amusements, aim of society, vi. 235 ; 
education of, 137 ; forbidden, 139 ; 
need of, viii. 145 ; x. 109 ; safeguard 
of rulers, iii. 255 ; vi. 37. 

Analogy, i. 33, 87 ; v. 227, 241 ; viii. 
IS, 186 ; X. 177. 

Analysis, iii. 64 ; vi. 294 ; xii. 13. 

Anarchy, value of, i. 304; iii. 202, 
228 ; in the church, vi. 195 ; xi. 
247. 

Anatomy, in art, i. 49 ; xii. 119 ; mor- 
bid, vii. 260, 290 ; of national tenden- 
cies, v. 134 ; sympathetic, vi. 219. 

Ancestors, escape from, vi. 15; face 
represents, v. 53 ; reverence for, vii. 
170 ; a man represents each of sev- 
eral ancestors, vi. 15 ; independence 
of, i. 167. 

Anchors, easy to twist, vi. 262. 

Ancients, why venerable, xii. 245. 

Andersen, Hans C, quoted, viii. SO. 

Andes, vi. 258 ; viii. 128. 

Angelo, Michael, xii. 113 ; on beauty, 
i. 62 ; cardinal in picture, iv. 131 ; 
cartoons, v. 194; conscience of It- 
aly, viii. 206 ; on death, 313 ; on eye 
of artist, vi. 171 ; frescoes, ii. 331 ; 
Laudor on, v. 11 ; influence on Mil- 
ton, xii. 156 ; sonnet translated, ix. 
244 ; xii. 113 ; on the test of sculp- 
ture, ii. 146 ; self-conMeuce, vii. 
274 ; Sistine chapel, vi. 73 ; xii. 126, 
128 ; solitude, vii. 13 ; viii. 206 ; xii. 
135 ; beauty the purgation of super- 
fluities, vi. 279. 

Angels, past actions are, i. 97 ; asp or, 
i. 322 ; of the body, ii. 177 ; vii. 163 ; 
of children, iv. 33 ; for cook, vi. 261 ; 
shown in crises, i. 146 ; disguised, 
i. 276; our ancestors' familiarity 
with, X. 107; favoritism, 21 ; flutes, 



ix. 156; food, i. 319; gossip keeps 
them in the proprieties, vi. 212 ; 
guardian, x. 20, 79 ; hope, iii. 237 ; 
language, ii. 323 ; let go, 120 ; take 
liberties with letters, iii. 217 ; mem- 
ory, xii. (jo\ poems, viii. 74, 263; 
power, X. 26 , praise, i. 146 ; preach- 
ers, i. 144; iv. 136; pride, ix. 12; 
lead men out of prison, iii. 269 ; 
punisliers, xii. 65 ; shoon, ix. 240 ; 
skirts, 235 ; Svvedeuborg ou, iv. 121, 
136 ; vii. 12 ; viii. 221 ; talk, xii. 99 ; 
thrones, ii. 287 ; blind to trespass, 
X. 207 ; walking among, iv. 136 ; 
wandering, x. 371 ; whisperings, iii. 
69 ; words, i. 46 ; of youth, vii. 117 ; 
X. 240. 

Angles, veracity of, iv. 15 ; at which 
we look at things, xii. 9. 

Anglomania, ii. 26. 

Anglo-Saxons, vi. 146; xi. 225. See, 
also, Saxons. 

Angularity of facts, ii. 14. 

Animal, every efScient man a fine ani- 
mal, V. 72 ; novice, iii. 174. 

Animal consciousness in dreams, x. 
12. 

Animal courage, vii. 242. 

Animal magnetism, i. 76; x. 26, 29. 
See Mesmerism. 

Animal spirits, vii. 17, 18. 

Animalcules, our bodies built up of, 
vi. 109. 

Animals, dreams of nature, x. 12 ; 
features in men, 13 ; good sense, viii. 
152; xii. 20; growth, iv. 104; viii. 
15 ; memory in, xii. 63 ; moral sen- 
timent in, X. 178 ; pantomime, i. 48 ; 
Plutarch ou, x. 19; not progres- 
sive, 126; pugnacity, vii. 242; sa- 
cred, X. 19; scavengers, vii. 260; 
truthfulness, v. 115. 

Anne, of Russia, snow palace, viii. 319. 

Annoyances, viii. 274. 

Answers, vii. 222, 226. 

Answers to Correspondents, xii. 249. 

Antagonisms, ii. 199, 201 ; vi. 27, 242 ; 
vii. 20. 

Antenor, vii. 73. 

Anthropometer, x. 52. 

Anthropomorphism, we baptize the 
daylight by the name of John or 
Joshua, viii. 27 ; x. 17, 195 ; xii. 
121. 

Anti-masonry, i. 257. 

Antinomiamsm, i. 317 ; ii. 73 ; iii. 
241. 

Antiquity, i. 155, 287 ; ii. 16 ; v. 62, 
108, 203 ; vii. 170. 

Anti-Slavery, i. 204 ; xi. 165, 172, 229, 
347. See, also. Slavery. 



278 



GENEBAL INDEX. 



Antouiuus, Marcus Aureliiis, ^^. 156, 
228, 246; viii. 295, 313; x. 94, 115, 
121. 

Apathy, ii. 191 ; x. 377. 

Apollo, iii. 83 ; vii. 170. 

Apologies, ii. Gl, G7, 152, 154, 245 ; do 
not apologize, iii. 101, 208 ; vi. 225 ; 
viii. 8ti 

Apologv, The, ix. 105/. 

Apoplexy, viii. 101. 

Apparatus, vi. 97 ; xi. 191. 

Appearances and realities, i. 52 ; ii. 
00, 05, 210 ; iii. 39 ; iv. 170 ; xi. 191 ; 
the attempt to make a favorable ap- 
pearance vitiates the effect, i. 123. 

Appetite, ii. 219 ; iv. 175 ; vi. 148. 

Apple-tree, vi. 102. 

Apprenticeships, iii. 44. 

Approbation, we love but do not for- 
give, ii. 286; X. 62. 

Approximations, we live in, iii. 182. 

Appnlses, iii. 12. 

Apkil, Lx. 219; ix. 27, 87, 125, 

148. 

Aptitudes, vii. 274 ; x. 47 ; xii. 28. 

Arabian Nights, vii. 71, 104. 

Arabs, civilization, v. 51 ; x. 172 ; 
enthusiasm, i. 239 ; barb not a good 
roadster, vi. 77 ; love of poetry, viii. 
227 ; do not count days spent in the 
chase, 265, 206 ; sheiks, ii. 201 ; vii. 
271 ; victories, i. 239. 

Arch, gothic, ii. 24 ; never sleeps, xii. 
73. 

Architect, i. 49 ; iv. 186 ; xii. 119. 

Architecture, American, viii. 202 ; 
bond of arts, xii. 122 ; fitness in, vi. 
47, 280 ; Carlyle on, v. 200 ; French, 
vii. 229 ; Greek, ii. 19 ; Greenough 
on, V. 10 ; length of line in, 271 ; 
compared to music, i. 49 ; viii. 176 ; 
and nature, ii. 24 ; origin, i. 71 ; ii. 
24 ; vii. 56 ; viii. 178 ; rhyme in, 48, 
54 ; of snow, ix. 43. 

Arctic expeditions, ii. 84. 

Argument, forbear, ii. 225 ; vii. 214 ; 
viii. 97 ; ix. 14. 

Akistocracy, X. 33-07 ; American, i. 
249 ; beauties, 370 ; English, v. 100 ; 
X. 403; European, iii. 143; follies, 
xi. 400 ; inevitable, iii. 120 ; justi- 
fied where its foundation is merit, 
X. 42; literature of, vii. 190; man- 
ners, vi. 168 ; Puritans without, xii. 
101 ; of trade, i. 357 ; traits, x. 35. 
Aristophanes, xi. 347. 
Aristotle, his definitions, 1. 59; ii. 
139 ; iii. 34 ; v. 132 ; vii. 43, 151 ; 
viii. 151, 264; x. 145, 445; xii. 57, 
173. 
Arithmetic, ii. 238, 295 ; iii. 197 ; iv. 



228 ; vi. 99 ; vii. 171 ; x. 145, 309, 
328. 

Ark of God, iii. 235. 

Armiuianism, x. 311. 

Armor, vi. 214; truth our, 219; x. 
261. 

Army, discipline, vi. 134 ; English, v. 
65 ; Napoleon's, ii. 85 ; iv. 228. 

Arnim, Bettine von, iii. 58 ; vi. 156. 

Arrangement, viii. 271. 

Arsenal of forces, x. 71. 

Akt, ii. 325-343 ; vii. 39-59 ; ix. 235 ; 
baubles, iii. 168; beauty, i. 28; ii. 
329 ; vi. 279 ; the best in work of, i. 
201 ; Carlyle on, v. 200 ; lives in 
contrasts, vi. 242; courage in, vii. 
253 ; creation, iii. 41 ; deification of, 
iii. 223 ; defined, i. 11 ; vii. 42, 43 ; 
xii. 118 ; devotion to, ii. 219 ; col- 
lections in England, v. 180 ; epitome 
of world, i. 29 ; source of excel- 
lence in, iv. 09 ; in rude people, x. 
82 ; galleries, vi. 97 ; vii. 125 ; human 
form in, xii. 121 ; immobility in, iii. 
69 ; industrial, is but initial, ii. 337 ; 
jealous, vi. 112 ; Landor on, v. 11 ; 
love of, vii. 277 ; attuned to moral 
nature, 54 ; is nature working 
through man, i. 29 ; a complement 
to nature, iii. 107 ; vii. 44,51, 54, 280 ; 
ix. 17, 194 ; nature predominates in, 
vii 59 ; is free necessity, 52 ; prop- 
erty in, 125; proportion, iii. 223; 
refining influence, vi. 97 ; success 
in, 73; universal, xii. 118; is con- 
scious utterance of thought, vii. 42 : 
woman in, xi. 340 ; works of, should 
be public property, vii. 126. 

Arthur, King, legends, v. 57 ; vii. 119- 
299; viii. 61, 275; ix. 204. 

Artist, dift'erence from artisan, vi. 
220 ; disjoined from his object, xii. 
41 ; English, v. 241 ; exemptions, 
X. 25S ; idealize by detaching, ii. 
330 ; inspirations, 335 ; inspirers, vii. 
50 ; intoxication, iii. 31 ; life, ii. 
335 ; materials, 335 ; models, 81 ; 
morality, 219 ; motive, x. 244 ; power 
not spontaneous, ii. 313 ; stimulants, 
vi. 213 ; surroundings, viii. 275 ; syn- 
thesis, iv. 50. 

Arts, creation their aim, ii. 327 ; sec- 
ond childhood, i. 347 ; disease, iii. 
08 ; distinction, ii. 342 ; vii. 46 ; xii. 
122 ; draperies, vii. 203 ; expensive- 
ness, X. 235 ; initial, ii. 337 ; know- 
ledge, iii. 9 ; law, vii. 46 ; lost, viii. 
171 ; materials, iv. 15 ; morality, vii. 
159 ; and nature, i. 19 ; new, de- 
stroy old, ii. 282 ; Oriental, x. 172 ; 
origin, vii. 58 ; of savage nations, 



GENERAL INDEX, 



279 



viii. 204 ; not satisfactory but sug- 
gestive, iii. IS'2. 

Aryan legends, viii. ITS. 

Ascension, tlie poet's, iii. 28 ; iv. 36, 
G8 ; vi. 39, 121. 

Asceticism, i. 170, ISO ; ii. 240 ; iii. 
66 ; X. 172. 

Ashley, Lord, viii. 125. 

Asia, kept out of Europe, vii. 257 ; im- 
migrations, iv. 4S ; in the mind, ii. 
15 ; iv. 62 ; nomadism, ii. 26 ; ran- 
cor, ix. 67 ; country of fate, iv. 53. 

Asinine expression, ii. 56 ; resistance, 
i. 2S3, 

Asmodeus, vi. 167 ; viii. 144 ; ix. 277. 

Aspasia, vi. 179. 

Aspiration, xi. 354 ; xii. 1S5, 253 ; and 
not eli'ort also, ii. 268. 

Assacombuit, xi. 1S6. 

Assessors, divine, vi. 216. 

Assimilating power, viii. 170, 181, 191. 

Association of ideas, xii. 68. 

Associations, i. 360 ; iii. 127 ; x. 309 ; 
compromise, ii. 190, 247 ; iii. 250. 
See Communities. 

Assyria, i. 23. 

Aster, ix. 106. 

Astley, John, anecdote, viii. 162. 

ASTRAEA, ix. 75/. 

Astrology, vi. 268 ; x. 18. 

Astronomy, belittled, viii. 10; con- 
cords, ix. 126 ; and creeds, viii. 201 ; 
discoveries, vi. 209 ; espionage, vii. 
173 ; fortmie-telling, ix. 123 ; in 
iMind, viii. 28; miracles, x. 18; nat- 
ural forces, vii. 32 ; no foreign sys- 
tem, xii. 5 ; and sectarianism, viii. 
201 ; spiritual, ii. 205 ; teachings, vi. 
153 ; X. 317. 

Atheism, iii. 264 ; vi. 193 ; xi. 215. 

Athenians, x. 249. 

Athens, genius, iv. 53 ; Mercury's 
statues, X. 106; thousiuid-eyed, iii. 
104. 

Atlautean shoulders, iv. 20. 

Atlantic, roll, v. 237 ; pumped through 
the ship, X. 167 ; strength and cheer, 
xii. 220. 

Atmosphere, of the planet, vi. 221 ; of 
men, iii. 219 ; vii. 207 ; x. 57 ; re- 
sistance to, iii. 202 ; vi. 29 ; must be 
two to make, x. 57 ; westerly cur- 
rent, vi. 32 ; of women, xi. 343. 

Atom, not isolated, vii. 139 ; viii. 211 ; 
genetical, xii. 212 ; journeying, ix. 
10 ; march in tune, 65 ; every atom 
carries the whole of nature, vi. 303 ; 
self-kiudled, iii. 161 ; yawus from 
atom, ix. 280. 

Atomies, xi. 182. 

Attention, ii. 137. 



Attractions proportioned to destinies, 
viii. 44. 

Auburn dell, ix. 148. 

Audibilities of a room, v. 130. 

Audience, a meter, vii. 67, 82, 84, 93 ; 
viii. 34, 277. 

Augur and bird, x. 19. 

Augustine, St., vii. 198; viii. 53, 329; 
ix. 17; X. 289; xi. 388; xii. 95, 194, 
218. 

Aunts, viii. 81, 143 ; x. 24 ; xii. 69. 

Auricular air, vi. 40. 

Aurora, Guide's, ii. 21. 

Authority, ii. 276 ; x. 311. 

Authors, the company of, v. 8 ; writ- 
ten out, i. 98; spirit of, xii. 183; 
interruptions, viii. 276 ; mutual 
Hattery, ii. 273 ; write better under 
a mask, viii. 187 ; we want only a 
new word from, iii. 229. See, also, 
Writers. 

Autobiography, vii. 198. 

Autumn, vii. 281. 

Auxiliaries, man's, vi. 235. 

Avarice, slavery not foimded on, xi. 
148. 

Avenger, the, xi. 224. 

Averages, we are, iv. 154. 

Aversation, ii. 57 ; x. 429. 

Awkwardness, healed by women, vi. 
282; comes from want of thought, 
viii. 82. 

Axis of vision and of things, i. 77. 

Azure, come out of the, vi. 188. 

Babe, descriptions, vii. 101, 243; ix. 
10 ; viii. 81 ; power, ii. 50 ; thou- 
sand years old, vii. 299. 

Baboon, descent fx-om, v. 52 ; vi. 197. 

Bacchus, ix. 111#; viii. 71; xi. 

390. 

Bachelors, iii. 175. 

Backbone, imprisoned in, xi. 419. 

Bacon, Delia, viii. 188. 

Bacon, IVancis, analogist, v. 227 ; de- 
light m, iii. 58 ; eloquence, vii. 83 ; 
English language from, v. 99 ; fame, 
i. 254 ; generalizations, v. 229 ; 
idealist, iv. 42 ; v. 227 ; imagina- 
tion, 235 ; xii. 170 ; on immortality, 
viii. 323 ; Jonson on, v. 231 ; on 
manners, vii. 18; and Milton, xii. 
152 ; and Newton, v. 236 ; on para- 
doxes, 93 ; doctrine of poetry, 230 ; 
viii. 24 ; xii. 173 ; and Shakespeare, 
iv. 193 ; viii. 188 ; style, xii. 247 ; 
symbolism in, iv. 113 ; on time as 
reformer, v. 109 ; universality, 228, 
232. 

Bacon, Roger, discoveries and predic- 
tions, V. 153 ; viii. 204. 



280 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Bad, bark against, vii. 291 ; some- 
times a better doctor than good, vi. 
241. 

Bad news, x. IGO. 

Bad times, x. 237. 

Bad world, the way to mend, vi. 214. 

Badges, ii. 52, 154, 195 ; iii. 21 ; Eng- 
lish no taste for, v. 87. 

Badness is death, i. 124. 

Bag of bones, v. 288. 

Balances, ii. 96 ; vi. 41 ; viii. 44 ; ix. 
22. 

Ball, Alexander, vii. 247. 

Ballads, ii. 331 ; viii. 68. 

Balloons, v. 15G. 

Balls, vi. 139. 

Bancroft, George, v. 277. 

Banishment to the rocks and echoes, 
vii. 15. 

Bank-days, vi. 235. 

Bankers, i. 359 ; vi. 99. 

Bank-notes, ii. 222 ; vi. 102 ; xi. 281. 

Banquets, iv. 122 ; vii. 115. 

Banshees, x. 27. 

Banyan, ii. 122 ; xii. 109. 

Baptism, x. 109. 

Baptizing daylight, x. 195. 

Barbarism, vii. 23, 37. 

Barcena, viii. 296. 

Bards, i. 131, 143 ; iii. 35. 

Bakds and TEOirsEUKS, viii. 58-C4. 

Bar-rooms, iii. 04 ; xi. 402. 

Barrows, iii. 10. 

Basle, monk, vi. 185. 

Battery of nature, viii. 72. 

Battle, eye in, ii. 224; of fate, 75; 
courage in, vii. 246, 247 ; Napoleon 
on, iv. 236 ; verdict, x. 52. 

Baubles, ^d. 297. 

Be, privilege to, i. 45. 

Be, not seem, ii. 151 ; x. 267. 

Beads, life a string of, iii. 53 ; viii. 
71. 

Beatitudes, ii. 329 ; iii. Ill ; iv. 95 ; 
X. 251. 

Beaumarchais, vii. 227. 

Beaumont and Fletcher, ii. 231 ; 
quoted, 58; ii. 45, 168/*, 231, 241; 
viii. 56, 312. 

Beautiful, the highest, escaping tlie 
dowdtness of the good and the heart- 
lessness of the true, i. 3.35; com- 
mon offices made, iii. 235 ; who are, 
X. 57 ; within, xii. 213. 

Beautiful, the, must carry it with us, 
ii. 334 ; defined, vi. 274 ; exalts, xii. 
117; God the, ii. 185; good the 
cause of, iv. 57 ; never plentiful, xi. 
419 ; takes out of surfaces, vi. 274 ; 
useful, ii. 341. 

Beauty, i. 21-30. 



Beauty, Ode to, ix. 81-84, 263, Jio/e. 

Beauty, is m expression, ii. 334 ; vi. 
285 ; accuracy essential to, x. 145 ; 
of affection, i. 100 ; escapes analy- 
sis, vi. 287 ; Michael Augelo on, xii. 
99, 116 ; art the creation of, i. 28 ; 
ii. 329, 341 ; vi. 279 ; vii. 43 ; bow 
of, ix. 53 ; comes not at call, ii. 342 ; 
we find what we carry, 334 ; vi. 
140; of character, i. 324; x. 38; 
childhood's cheat, ix. 15 ; in neces- 
sary facts, ii. 343 ; corpse has, i. 22 ; 
creator, iii. 13 ; culture opens the 
sense of, vi. 152 ; never alone, i. 29 ; 
definition of, vi. 274 ; xii. 117 ; des- 
ert, i. 164 ; details, iii. 223 ; die for, 
vi. 266; ix. 233; disgust, 242; an 
end in itself, i. 29 ; elusive, iii. 185 ; 
makes endure, vi. 280 ; excuse for, 
ix. 39 ; xii. 172 ; without expres- 
sion, vi. 284 ; eye makes, 50 ; face, 
moulded to, xii. 143 ; the mark of 
fitness, vi. 47, 275, 279 ; vii. 55 ; xi. 
341 ; of form better than of face, 
iii. 144 ; unity with goodness, iv. 
57 ; vii. 291 ; xii. 117, 132 ; grace, 
viu. 79; Greek delighted in, 309; 
is health, x. 46 ; immersed in, ii. 
125, 330 ; iii. 166 ; inexplicable, iii. 
21 ; inspiration, x. 250 ; object of 
intellect, i. 28 ; xi. 153 ; intoxicates, 
x. 55 ; of landscape, i. 164 ; iii. 170 ; 
rides lion, vi. 279, 286 ; leads love, 
vi. 275 ; love of, iii. 12, 120 ; vi. 
281; vii. Ill, 284; in manners, vi. 
187 ; X. 38, 57 ; love of measure, 
iii. 135 ; has a moral element, vi. 
207, 290; of nature, a mirage, i. 
25 ; a necessity of nature, ii. 341 ; 
iii. 19, 170, 225; iv. 12; vi. 279; 
occasional, vii. 122 ; pilot of young 
soul, vi. 275 ; power, iii. 143 ; vii. 
165 ; suggests relation to the whole 
world, vi. 287 ; rose of, 51 ; ix. 215 ; 
noble sentiment the highest form 
of, X. 57, 261 ; standard, xii. 117 ; 
stone grew to, ix. 16; sufficient to 
itself, ii. 169 ; law of table, viii. 97 ; 
temperance, ii. 19 ; snaps ties, ix. 
97 ; is in the moment of transition, 
ii. 277 ; bought by tragedy, xii. 260 ; 
trinity with truth and goodness, i. 
30 ; xii. 119 ; truth in, vi. 279 ; xii. 
119 ; universaUty, i. 29 ; ii. 218 ; iv. 
42 ; vi. 50, 283, 288 ; in use, ii. 342 ; 
iii. 153, 157 ; vi. 274 ; mark set on 
virtue, i. 25 ; weed, i. 02 ; is whole- 
ness, i. 21 ; iii. 23 ; xii. 118 ; wo- 
men, vi. 281; world, xii. 116; lo-ve 
of, keeps us young, ii. 256. 

Becket, Thomas a, v. 211 ; viii. 207. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



281 



Beckford, "William, v. IGO ; vi. 94. 

Bede, Venerable, v. 77 ; vii. 197. 

Bedford, Duke of, v. 170, 174. 

Beech, x. 450. 

Bees, bell of, ix. 55 ; cell, vi. 279 ; dis- 
turbing, ii. 21G; familiarity with, 
X. 440; nothing good for the bee 
that is bad for the hive, 183 ; honey- 
making, viii. 21 ; hunters, iii. G5 ; 
men compared to, v. 83 ; xi. 247 ; 
orchards resonant with, ix. 12G ; 
Plato's, iv. 55; leave life in sting, 
V iii. 260 ; tawny hummers, ix. 8G. 

Beggar, the soul a, vii. 289. 

Beginnings, heap of, vii. 309. 

Behavior, vi. lGi-189; finest of fine 
arts, iii. 144; laws cannot reach, 
vi. 1G6 ; dress mends, viii. 87 ; a 
garment, 80 ; laws of, iii. 129 ; nov- 
els teach, vii. 204 ; self-reliance ba- 
sis of, vi. 182 ; substitutes for, viii. 
80 ; women's instinct of, iii. 145. 
See, also, Conduct, Manners. 

Behmen, Jacob, egotism, iii. 38, 180 ; 
healthily wise, iv. 136; on inspira- 
tion, viii. 2G3. 

Behooted and behowled, i. 139. 

Being, affirmative, ii. IIG; excluding 
negation, iii. 75 ; preferred to doing, 
vi. 206 ; realm of, ix. 292 ; and seem- 
ing, ii. 151 ; sense of, C4. 

Belief, ages of belief are the great 
ages, vi. 207 ; x. 198 ; is affirmation, 
iv. 172 ; appears, ii. 148 ; as deep as 
life, vi. 269 ; impulse to, iii. 75 ; 
man bears, vi. 195 ; makes men, x. 
241 ; natural, iv. 1G2, 195 ; a greater 
makes unbelief, i. 270. 

Bell, church, vii. 214, 281 ; God comes 
without, ii. 255. 

Belle-Isle, days at, vii. 173. 

Belzoni, ii. 16; iii. 117; x. 16. 

Benedict, vi. 223. 

Benefactors, do not flatter your bene- 
factors, i. 319 ; iii. 157 ; misfortunes 
are, ii. 112, 114, 121 ; are many, 
viii. 189 ; become malefactors, iv. 
32 ; wish to be, iii. 263 ; vii. Ill, 
124. 

Benefit, under mask of calamities, xi. 
424 ; to others, contingent, xii. 28 ; 
the end of nature, ii. 109 ; xi. 388 ; 
law, iii. 155 ; not to be set down in 
list, 102 ; low, and high, i. 131 ; in- 
direct, iii. 158 ; shower of, i. 320 ; 
true and false, vii. 112. 

Benevolence, is life, i. 123 ; founda- 
tion of manners, iii. 138 ; does not 
consist in giving, 102, 148 ; un- 
happy, ii. 129 ; not measured by 
works, iii. 101. See, also. Charity. 



Bentley, Richard, ii. 146 ; vii. 312. 

Benumb, power to, vi. 255. 

Beranger, quoted, vi. 147 ; vii. 303. 

Beridden people, vi. 273 ; vii. 171. 

Berkeley, Bishop, anecdote of, iii. 259. 

Bernard, St., i. 297; ii. 118. 

Berrying, ix. 41 /. 

Beryl beam, vi. 265. 

Best, index of what should be the aver- 
age, iii. 233 ; love of, ix. 11 ; we are 
near, iii. 224 : is the true, 268 : xi. 
190. 

Best moments, men to be valued by, 
vi. 273. 

Best thing easiest, iv. 12. 

Best way, always a, vi. 163. 

Bethlehem, heart, ix. 67; star, 276; 
X. 92. 

Bettine, see Arnim, B. von. 

Between lines, we read, viii. 187. 

Bias, need of, iii. 68, 225 ; v. 137 ; vi. 
17, 127, 253 ; viii. 72, 134, 290, 291, 
293 ; X. 143 ; xii. 28. 

Bible, not closed, i. 142 ; iv. 25 ; Eng- 
lish language from, v. 99 ; iv. 191 ; 
literature of Europe, vii. 186 ; mil- 
lenniums to make, 209 ; viii. 173 ; 
rolled from heart of nature, ix. 16 ; 
best reading, iii. 65 ; reverence for, 
an element of civilization, iv. 46 ; v. 
209 ; and science, x. 317 ; quoted to 
justify slavery, xi. 220 ; immortal 
sentences, i. 148 ; like an old violm, 
viii. 173. See Scripture. 

Bible, of England, v. 243; for heroes, 
X. 299; of the learned, iv. 41; of 
opinions, vi. 55; for soldiers, xi. 
112. 

Bibles, of world, vii. 208, 209; viii. 
41 ; we must write, iv. 276. 

Bibliomania, vii. 199. 

Bibulous of sea of light, ii. 272. 

Bigotry, a spice of, needed, iii. 178 ; 
xii. 49. 

Biography, is autobiography, xi. 267 ; 
clumsy, iv. 196 ; to be generalized, 
ii. 25 ;" in a gift, iii. 155 ; is history, 
ii. 15, 62, 311 ; moral of, iv. 19 ; 
viii. 280 ; of soul, vi. 268 ; value, i. 
156. 

Bipolarity, iii. 96. 

Birds, ix. 283 ; almanac, ix. 154 ; au- 
gur and, X. 19 ; bring auguries, ix. 
268 ; baggage, 277 ; named without 
gun, ix. 78 ; tell history, 106 ; what 
they say, vi. 267 ; pairing, an idyl, 
iii. 29 ; plumage, has a reason, vii. 
55 ; punctual, ix. 126 ; sacred, i. 
241 ; language, ix. Ill, 306. 

Birmingham, character, v. 45, 97, 
242. 



282 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Birth, elegance comes of, iii. 143 ; iv. 
65 ; vi. 157, 169. 

Birthplace, x. 194. 

Bishop, English, v. 213, 219. 

Biters, small, xi. 182. 

Blackberries, ix. 42. 

Blackbirds, ix. 38, 148. 

Black coats, company of, vii. 232. 

Black drop in veins, vi. 15. 

Black events, triumpli over, ii. 299. 

Blair, Hugh, viii. 115. 

Blake, William, viii. 31 ; quoted, 275, 
299. 

Blame, safer than praise, ii. 114. 

Blasphemer, village, i. 138. 

Bleaching souls, x. 207. 

Bleed for me, iii. 155. 

Blessed be nothing, ii. 294. 

Blessing poor land, xi. 403. 

Blight, ix. 122/". 

Blind, children of, see, v. 64. 

Blinders, horse goes better with, v. 
88 ; xii. 47. 

Blind-man's-buff, conformity a, ii. 57 ; 
X. 24. 

Bliss, Rev. Daniel, xi. 69. 

Bloated nothingness, ii. 151 ; vanity, 
xi. 197. 

Blockade, Reform, a paper blockade, 
i. 269. 

Blockheads, vi. 255. 

Blonde race, v. 68. 

Blood, all of one, ii. 71 ; prejudice in 
favor of, vi. 169 ; royal blood does 
not pay, x. 48 ; surcharge, vi. 69. 

Bloomer costume, vi. 278. 

Blossoming in stone, ii. 25. 

Blot on world, x. 188. 

Blows, refreshed by, vi. 191. 

Bluebird, ix. 148 ; x. 450 ; xii. 7G. 

Blue-eyed pet, gentian, ix. 87. 

Blue glory of years, vii. 166. 

Blumenbach, on races, v. 47. 

Boa constrictor, iv. 76. 

Boasters, i. 209 ; vi. 11. 

Boat, shape, how determined, vii. 45 ; 
sky-cleaving, ix. 66; steering, xii. 
27. 

Boccaccio, the Valdarfer, vii. 200. 

Bodleian Library, v. 191, 195. 

Body, human, artist's study of, xii. 
121 ; caricatures us, vi. 283 ; cus- 
tody, iii. 31 ; expressiveness, vi. 
170 ; pass hand through, viii. 25 ; 
type of house, iv. 154 ; magazine of 
inventions, vii. 151 ; true Lethe, 
xii. 78 ; masks, vii. 106 ; mechan- 
ical aids to, 153 ; a meter, 151 ; mi- 
crocosm, vi. 121 ; Plotinus on, 430 ; 
property like, vi. 122 ; and mind, 
vii. 106 ; and soul, ii. 101, 172 ; iii. 



9, 32; iv. 82; vi. 163; viii. 321; 
sound, at the root of all excellence, 
X. 46 ; chest of tools, viii. 136 ; 
world and, i. 68. 

BoKCE, Etienne de la, ix. 76/. 

Bohemian Hymn, ix. 298/. 

Bohn's Library, vii. 194. 

Bold, be, iv. 59. 

Bonaparte, Napoleon, ^ee Napoleon 
Bonaparte. 

Bone-house called man, vii. 141, 213. 

Boniface, burly, vi. 67. 

Boniform soul, iv. 81. 

Book, of fashion, iii. 147 ; of nature, 
vi. 20. 

Books, vii. 179-210; i. 89-95; each 
age writes its own, 90 ; not same to 
all, ii. 141 ; who reads all may read 
any, viii. 298 ; influence on authors, 
xii. 178 ; bad, easily found, vii. 181 ; 
bank estimate of, 181 ; benefits, 

182 ; viii. 185 ; best, notes of, 184 ; 
burning, ii. 115 ; character in, x. 
191 ; choice in, vii. 186 ; for closet, 
208 ; many but commentators, 185 ; 
company in, ii. 142 ; confidences, 
vii. 279 ; conscience, 208 ; convict 
us, viii. 295 ; criticism, vii. 254 ; 
culture, vi. 136; vii. 186; x. 141; 
debt to, vii. 182 ; xii. 178 ; deep, 
help us most, viii. 280 ; delight in, 
i. 93; vii. 188, 199; dull, i. 178; 
education of, vii. 183 ; English, v. 
39, 92 ; in experience, vii. 182 ; be- 
long to eyes that see them, iii. 54 ; 
of facts, viii. 279 ; fancies, ix. 215 ; 
favorites, iii. 104 ; vii. 199 ; are fev/, 
ii. 315 ; vii. 184 ; for the few, viii. 
208 ; fragmentary, iv. 100 ; five 
Greek, vii. 188 ; growth, xii. 24 ; are 
for the scholar's idle times, i. 92 ; 
imaginative, iii. 35, 37 ; vii. 202, 
204, 207 ; immortality in, 182 ; in- 
spiration, viii. 279 ; knowledge from, 
vi. 207 ; commentary on life, ii. 13 ; 
consulted instead of life, x. 191 ; the 
man behind, iv. 267 j mean, 187 ; 
method of reading, vii. 185 ; mirac- 
ulous, xii. 177 ; all written by one 
man, iii. 222 ; moral power, vii. 182 ; 
read old, vii. 187 ; a man can write 
but one, vi. 127 ; outgrown, viii. 
69 ; permanent, ii. 146 ; smell of 
pines, 59 ; professor of, needed, vii. 

183 ; read by proxy, 209 ; quotation, 
iv. 44 ; reader makes, vii. 278, 279 ; 
viii. 185 ; good when we are ready 
for them, vi. 137 ; read proudly, iii. 
222 ; resources, viii. 169 ; revolution 
dogging, X. 242 ; sacredness, i. 90 ; 
semi-canonical, vii. 208 ; tire, iii. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



283 



58 ; theory of, i. 89 ; all thought not 
in, 1G2 ; abstraction of time in, 93 ; 
time for, vii. 162 ; time, judge of, 
187 ; the transcendental in, iii. 35 ; 
for travelers, v. 34 ; viii. 279 ; use, 
i. 91 ; ii. 155 ; viii. 274 ; value, i. 
90 ; iii. 35 ; viii. 225 ; vocabularies, 
vii. 201 ; prized by wise, viii. 170 ; 
put us in working mood, 280 ; ix. 
274; world, iv. 192; for youth, x. 
141 ; xii. 193. See, also. Authors, 
Literature, Reading. 

Boots, become fairies, vi. 288 ; do not 
live to wear out, viii. 321. 

Boreal fleece, ix. 175. 

Bores, we find our account in, iii. 64. 

Borgia, Caesar, ii. 11. 

Born again, vi. 29. 

Born red, dies gray, ii. 238. 

Born too soon, viii. 205. 

Borrow, George, v. 219 ; viii. 83. 

Borrowing, ii. 108 ; literary, vii. 171, 
275; viii. 174,182. 

Boscage, i. 294. 

Boscovich, quoted, iii. 52. 

Boss, viii. 135. 

Boston, xii. 83-111. 

Boston Hymn, ix. 174-177. 

Boston (poem), ix. 182-187. 

Boston, a gate of America, i. 350; 
copies and is copied, xi. 152 ; cows 
laid out, vi. 119 ; not a fair share of 
originality of thought, xii. 104 ; 
never wanted a good principle of 
rebellion, 103, 107 ; slave-hunters 
in, xi. 160 ; Unitarianism, x. 196. 

Botanist, finds flowers in pavements, 
viii. 302 ; quatrain to, ix. 239. 

Botany, abortions in, viii. 152 ; Goethe 
in, iv. 262 ; x. 319 ; leaf, unit in, iv. 
262 ; metamorphosis in, viii. 14 ; x. 
319 ; is all names, vi. 267 ; ix. 123. 

Botany Bay children, iii. 202. 

Bottle, man in, vi. 270. 

Boufflers, Chevalier de, quoted, vi. 
240. 

Bounties on production, vi. 104. 

Bow and arrow times, xi. 397. 

Bow, of beauty, carve, ix. 53 ; strings 
to, X. 40 ; toy with, vi. 232 ; ix. 267. 

Boxes, universe a nest of, viii. 316. 

Box-turtle, talk with, v. 213. 

Boy and Mantle, story, ii. 37. 

Boyishness of men, vii. 120. 

Boys, bad, vi. 245 ; and cats, xi. 183 ; 
characterized, x, 137 ; cleverness, 
138 ; country, vii. 117 ; debt to im- 
aginative books, vi. 296 ; x. 141 ; 
delights, 146; education, vi. 134, 
137 ; viii. 125 ; like flies, x. 137 ; 
happiness in humble life, vii. 117 ; 



holidays, 162 ; love, ii. 164 ; man- 
ners, V i. 164 ; masters of play- 
ground, X. 137 ; nature of, 142 ; 
and new-comer, ii. 149 ; their non- 
chalance tlie liealthy attitude of 
human nature, 50 ; early old, vii. 
117 ; in parlor, ii. 50 ; perceptions, 
X. 138 ; poetry, viii. 68 ; reading, iii. 
68. 

Bradshaw, John, iii. 107 ; x. 411. 

Brag, V. 143-146 ; x. 170. 

Brahma, ix. 170/. 

Brains, differences of, x. 47 ; male 
and female, iv. 105. 

Bramante, xii. 133, 139. 

Brandy, revenue from, vii. 34. 

Brant, Joseph, ii. 155. 

Brasidas, ii. 234 ; vii. 79. 

Bravery, xi. 200. See, also, Courage. 

Bread, not the aim, i. 276 ; ii. 211 ; 
xi. 331 ; heavenly, v. 243, viii. 64 ; 
history of, iii. 60; transubstautia- 
tion of, vi. 123 ; viii. 38. 

Bride, blow from, iv. 166; danger, as 
a, i. 146; of Michael Angelo, xii. 
141 ; solitude as a, i. 168 ; imiverse, 
iii. 78. 

Bridges, aerial, xii. 12, 38. 

Brisbane, Albert, x. 328. 

Bristed, C. A., quoted, v. 196, 200. 

Britain. See England. 

British Constitution, i. 292. 

Brook Farm, sketch, x. 338-347 ; allu- 
sions, iii. 61, 229, 250 ; vi. 67, 112 ; 
xii. 44, 99. 

Brook, iii. 172. 

Brotherhood with men, ii. 246 ; xi. 
193. 

Brow, language of the, vi. 14 ; vii. 
123. 

Bbown, John, xi. 249-256; 257-263; 
on courage, vii. 255 ; integrity, xi. 
Ill ; eloquence, viii. 122 ; xi. 311 ; 
memory, xii. 77 ; philanthropy, viii. 
102 ; Thoreau's defense of, x. 429 ; 
and Virginians, vii. 256 ; and Gov. 
Wise, 255 ; xi. 253. 

Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, viii. 53. 

Bruin dance of Shakers, ^^. 226. 

Brummel, Beau, v. Ill ; x. 434. 

Brunei, I. K., vi. 118. 

Brutes. See Animals. 

Brutus, ii. 240 ; xi. 213. 

Buccaneers' bargain, xi. 185. 

Bud, extrudes the old leaf, x. 181. 

Buddhism, viii. 19. 

Buddhist, thanks no man, i. 319 ; iii. 
157 ; nature no B., 225 ; viii. 45. 

Bude-light, vii. 36. 

Build your own world, i. 79. 

Builded better than he knew, ix. 16. 



284 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Building, taste in, ^^. 276. 

Bulkeley, Rev. Edward, xi. G4, C6, 80. 

Bulkeley, Rev. Peter, xi. 35, 43, 59, 

G4, GG ; xii. 93. 
Bull, Mr., xii. '_>02. 
Bull-dog bite, xii. 70. 
Bull Run, battle, xi. 108, 115. 
Bulwer, v. 231 ; xii. 227, 232. 
Buncombe, x. 458. 
Bundles, souls not saved in, vi. 205. 
Bunker Hill, Webster's speech at, xi. 

209. 
Bunyan, John, viii. 32. 
Buonarotti. See Angelo, Michael. 
Burglars, vi. 29 ; xii. 21. 
Burial rites, viii. 308-9. 
Burke, Ednuuid, v. 232, 236 ; quoted, 

ii. 107; vi. 90, 156; vii. 136; viii. 

19, 170 ; X. 203 ; xi. 215. 
Burnet, Bishop, quoted, xi. 237. 
Burning, all things burn, vii. 140. 
BuKNS, Robert, xi. 363-369 ; common 

things inspired, i. Ill ; x. 56 ; apos- 
trophe to the devil, iv. 133 ; x. 2S2 ; 

influence, viii. 68; a Platonist, v. 

228. 
Business, i. 220 ; ii. Ill ; vi. 75. 
Busybodies, vii. 293 ; x. 28. 
Busyraue, inscription, iv. 59. 
Butler, Samuel, Hndibras, v. 223. 
Buttons, friend's, ii. 200. 
Buying, vii. 107, 108. 
Buzz, 1.264; iii. 51. 
Byron, xii. 227 ; clarion of disdain, 

ix. 206 ; xii. 236 ; Platonist, v. 228 ; 

xii. 186, 227; quoted, ii. 155; v. 

222, 228; rhetoric, ii. 330; and 

Scott, viii. 300 ; subjectiveness, xii. 

186. 

Cabalism, iv. 30 ; v. 213 ; xi. 407. 

Cabanis, quoted, iv. 147. 

Cabman a phrenologist, vi. 14. 

Cjesar, Julius, admired, iv. 27 ; en- 
durance, xii. 12G ; a gentleman, iii. 
123 ; intellectual, vi. 152 ; in irons, 
iii. 94 ; estimate of life, 260 ; called 
his house Rome, i. 79 ; well-read, 
vi. 136. 

Cain, x. 213. 

Calamity, our friend, ii. 119, 247, 300 ; 
vi. 39, 155 ; xi. 424. See, also, Ac- 
cidents, Disasters, Misfortune. 

Calculators, nature hates, iii. 70. 

Calendar, of flowers and birds, ix. 
154; Thoreau's, x. 438. See, also, 
Almanac. 

California, gold discovery, vi. 242 ; 
government, xi. 247 ; what money 
will buy in, 101. 

Call, preacher's, i. 134 ; talent a, ii. 134. 



Calls, limit to, viii. 90. 

Calomel of culture, x. 151. 

Calvinism, age of, x. 196 ; and Armini- 
auism, 311 ; culture, xii. 96 ; doomed, 
x. 116 ; drill, vii. 95 ; fatalism, vi. 
11 ; fruits, x. 373 ; from diseased 
liver, iii. 55 ; mordant, x. Ill ; in 
Plato, iv. 42 ; revivals, ii. 265 ; safe- 
guard, iii. 202 ; same everywhere, 
X. 107 ; its shadow, viii. 311 ; vin- 
dictive, X. 105. 

Cambridge University, v. 191. 

Camper, Pieter, viii. 160. 

Camping out, ix. 161, 

Caudle, the scholar a, vii. 16. 

Cannon in a parlor, viii. 117. 

Cannonade, Walden's, ix. 146. 

Cant, English, v. 218, 219 ; provokes 
common sense, xi. 245 ; American, 
400. 

Capdeuil, Pons, quoted, vii. 288 ; viii. 
41, 61. 

Capo Cod farm, xi. 403. 

Capital punishment, iii. 200 ; xii. 104. 

Capitalists, we must be, vi. 122. 

Capuchins of 19th century, ii. 32. 

Carlini, anecdote of, viii. 166. 

Carlisle, Countess of, x. 372. 

Carlyle, Thomas, x. 453-463; Past 
AND Present, xii. 237-248 ; brag, v. 
146; conversation, x. 455; cham- 
pion of modern England, xii. 247 ; 
preacher of fate, v. 237 ; love of he- 
roic, ii. 233 ; historian, i. 165 ; real- 
ism, 111; style, xii. 246; quota- 
tions, 186 ; rhetoric, ii. 330 ; xii. 
247 ; at Stonehenge, v. 259 ; visit 
to, 8, IS ; Wordsworth on, 24 ; cele- 
bi-ates the laws of decay, 237. 

Carnival, America a, iii. 40 ; world a, 
vi. 296 ; vii. 10, 163. 

Carpets, i. 233. 

Carrion, converts itself to flowers, iv. 
133. 

Cartsi ii. 221. 

Caryatides, of the temple of conven- 
tions, xii. 254. 

Casella, ix. 243. 

Cassandra, x. 404. 

Castalian water, kills, v. 198 ; xi. 228. 

Caste, iii. 127; iv. 65; vii. 113; x. 36. 

Castles, in air, better than dimgeons, 
vi. 251 ; xii. 42 ; English, v. 183. 

Casual, success is, iii. 70. 

Catacombs, viii. 309. 

Catechisms, ii. 292; iv. 117, 171; x. 
31. 

Cathedrals, ii. 17, 22, 25 ; v. 206 ; vii. 
56, 58 ; ix. 144. 

Catholicity, vii. 30, 33; viii. 295; x. 
42. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



285 



Caucus, xi. 234, 352, 413. 

Causationists, all successful men are 
causationists, vi. 56. 

Cause, aud etfect, the chancellors of 
God, ii. 87 ; give the true connec- 
tion that cannot be severed, 100, 
215, 283, 293; iv. 162; v. 232; vi. 
56 ; X. 14 ; xi. 390 ; xii. 09 ; final, i. 
52; first, ii. 70; iii. 74; iv. 177; 
vii. 172 ; search for, i. 191 ; skepti- 
cism is unbelief in cause aud effect, 
vi. 210. 

'• Causes," made up into little cakes 
to suit purchasers, i. 329. 

Cavendish, Thomas, quoted, xi. 185. 

Celts, V. 50, 57. 

Cenobite, i. 231. 

Censors, need of, vi. 212. 

Census, no criterion of the popula- 
tion, vi. 236. 

Cent, representative, iii. 197 ; x. 30. 

Centigraded man, x. 37. 

Centrality, ii. 61, 297 ; iii. 98 ; iv. 15, 
103; vii. 219, 278; vui. 44,71, 179, 
210, 211, 287. 

Centrifugal forces, i. 281 ; iii. 31. 

Centuries, what thej'^ say, iv. 176 ; 
days as, vi. 235; viii. 318. 

Cerberus, cakes to, vi. 193. 

Ceremony, i. 371 ; iii. 122 ; xi. 341. 

Cervantes, x. 56 ; xi. 367. 

Chair, should hold a king, iii. 133. 

Chance, ii, 87 ; iii. 71 ; iv. 163 ; none 
in the universe, vi. 308. 

Change, i. 55 ; iii. 58 : v. 109 ; viii. 10, 
190. 

Channels, men are, iii. 230, 207. 

Channing, Dr. William EUery, x. 162, 
222, 312, 320-322 ; quoted, iv. 177. 

Channing, William Henry, Ode to, 
ix. 71 ; allusions to, x. 322, 342. 

Chapman, George, vii. 189 ; viii. 52 ; 
quoted, iii. 34. 

Characteb, iii. 87-113 ; x. 91-121 ; 
lines, ix. 231 ; like acrostic, ii. 59 ; 
all interested in, x. 38 ; analysis, 
xii. 208; identified with the soul, 
iii. 217 ; body expresses, ii. 150 ; iii. 
18, 268 ; vi. 15 ; in books, x. 191 ; 
a matter of climate, 171 ; conceal- 
ment impossible, ii. 150 ; conversa- 
tion the vent of, vii. 223 ; cumula- 
tive, ii. 60; in dark, iii. Ill; de- 
fined, 95, 103; vi. 176; xii. 108; 
X. 119, 190; not organic, iii. 256; 
habit of dealing directly, 92; 
emitted in events, ii. 147 ; vi. 45, 
216 ; developed by evil, 242 ; let ex- 
pense proceed from, 109 ; vii. 107 ; 
force, cumulative, ii. 60; gauges 
of, i. 337 ; growth, iii. 101 ; house. 



shows, vii. 108, 123 ; we exaggerate, 
iii. 217; influence, ii. 268; iii. 108, 
207; higher than intellect, i. 99; 
viii. 300 ; inventory of, iii. 56 ; 
known, i. 122 ; magnetism, iii. 90 ; 
vii. 287 ; music-box, iii. 55 ; in poli- 
tics, 206 ; xi. 402 ; opinions are con- 
fession of, vi. 214 ; perception con- 
verted into, 32 ; i. 211 ; preferred 
to performance, vi. 200 ; power, i. 
156 ; ii. 299 ; development of, xii. 
235 ; in prayers, 213 ; hedged by 
odium, vi. 155; relations from, 
vii. 123 ; religion is knowing, iii. 
112 ; X. 203 ; a reserved force, iii, 
90 ; revelation of, vi. 216, 218 ; x. 
16 ; romance of, iii. 143 ; sifting of, 
130 ; simplicity the basis of, vi. 
305 ; X. 171 ; xii. 58 ; self-sufficing- 
ness, iii. 98 ; x. 121 ; and talent, ii, 
299; vi. 208, 244; vii. 176; x, 265; 
trusted, viii, 84 ; a meclianical tune, 
iii, 55 ; victories, vi, 184 ; teaches 
above our v/ills, ii, 59; is a will 
built on the reason of things, x. 
103 ; habit of action from the per- 
manent vision of truth, 119, 190, 

Chaedon Street Convention, x. 349- 
354. 

Charity, divine, i, 19 ; human, ii, 246 ; 
iii. 149; iv. 173; vi. 237; vii. 137; 
wicked dollar given to miscellaneous 
public charities, ii. 53. 

Charivari, vi. 297 ; viii. 80. 

Charlemagne, anecdote, v, 58, 

Charles I. of England, v, 203, 

Charles II. of England, ii, 273 ; v. 41, 
107, 

Charles V., Emperor, 1. 158; x. 263. 

Charles XII. of Sweden, vii. 252. 

Charles River, xii. 88. 

Charon, iv. 128. 

Chartist's Complaint, ix. 197. 

Chastity, viii. 35. 

Chat Moss, V. 94 ; vii. 145. 

Chateaubriand, quoted, x. 105. 

Chatham, Lord. i. 197 ; ii. 60 ; quoted, 
V. 109, 142. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, v. 243 ; a bor- 
rower, iv. 189; and Coke, vi. 128; 
genius, iv. 188 ; gladness, i. 93 ; iv. 
206 ; grasp, v. 223 ; humanity, ii. 
270; imagination, iii. 34; iv. 206; 
influence, iv. 188; inspiration, viii. 
279 ; nature in, i. 163 ; Plutarch, x. 
281; richness, iii. 43; self-naming, 
viii. 239 ; and Wordsworth, xii. 
226 ; quoted, iii. 34 ; vi. 11, 48, 198. 

Chauncy, Dr. Charles, eloquence, viii. 
124. 

Cheapness, of men, iv. 34 ; vii. 109. 



286 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Cheating, ii. 110, 114; fear of being 
cheated and fear of cheating, vi. 206. 

Cheerfubiess, iii. 270 ; iv. 205 ; v. 125 ; 
vi. 153, 250-252; vii. 278, 288; x. 
250. 

Chemist, makes sugar of shirts, vi. 
249; meeting, vii. 225; time a, ix. 
121. 

Chemistry, agricultural, i. 360 ; vii. 
138, 143 ; charm, viii. 11 ; takes to 
pieces, vi. 268 ; of eloquence, viii. 
126 ; secondary, 21 ; on higher plane, 
vi. 210 ; vii. 19 ; of spring, ix. 158 ; 
apes vegetation, vi. 294 ; world's, 
iv. 120. 

Cherubim, ii. 321 ; iii. 59 ; of destiny, 
vi. 29. 

Chesterfield, Lord, x. 63; xii. 152; 
quoted, v. 116 ; viii. 86, 121 ; x. 164. 

Childhood, the age of Gold, ii. 41. 

Children, vii. 101-104; guardian an- 
gels of, iv. 33 ; attitudes, viii. 82 ; 
charm, vii. 103 ; not deceived, vi. 
218 ; delight in, 299 ; love of du-t, x. 
345; discipline, iii. 205; x. 142; 
education, i. 121 ; ii. 262 ; iii. 60, 
178 ; vi. 62 ; vii. 102 ; viii. 203, 215 ; 
love of exaggeration, x. 169 ; faces, 
vi. 272 ; fairy-tales, xii. 233 ; fears, 
ii. 140 ; vii. 243 ; of gods, 107 ; good, 
die young, vi. 246 ; home, vii. 104, 
109 ; horizon, vi. 253 ; hospitality 
suffers from, vii. 109 ; illusions, 
vi. 299 ; imaginative, vii. 202 ; x. 
146 ; xii. 233 ; softening influence, ii. 
96 ; inspiration, x. 142 ; language, 
i. 32 ; viii. 135, 189 ; fear of life 
without end, 314; love masks, xii. 
54 ; memory, 71 ; believe in exter- 
nal world, i. 63 ; nonconformists, 
iii. 104 ; iv. 33 ; x. 143 ; oracles, ii. 
49 ; picture-books, vii. 103 ; provi- 
dence for, 101 ; repression, ii. 32 ; 
X. 307 ; respect for, 142 ; their 
reverence, 153-198 ; love of rhyme, 
viii. 48 ; self-reliance, ii. 50 ; toys, 
iii. 32, 178; vii. 103; vehemence, 
iv. 47 ; voices, vii. 286. See, also, 
Babe, Boys, Girls. 

Chimborazo, poet a, iii. 15. 

China, emperor's aimual sowing, viii. 
294 ; woman in, xi. 346. 

Cliinese, in California, viii. 139 ; quo- 
tations, iii. 108 ; xi. 296. 

Chivalry, lies in courtesy, ii. 22; iii. 
118, 128, 147 ; vii. 30 ; liberty the 
modern, xi. 229. 

Choice, of occupation, i. 225 ; willful 
and constitutional, ii. 133; in con- 
duct, iv. 182 ; X. 94, 189. 

Cholera, safeguard against, vi. 221. 



Chores, vii. 32, 116. 

Christ. See Jesus Christ. 

Christianity, advantages, i. 147 ; al- 
loyed, X. 106 ; not in the catechism, 
ii. 292 ; in one child, x. 100 ; signi- 
fied culture, vi. 197 ; old as crea- 
tion, xi. 388; defect, i. 129; the 
doctrine, as distinguished from su- 
pernatural claims, 390; ethics, x, 
114 ; xi. 25, 271 ; xii. 162 ; excellence, 
X. 219 ; not a finality, ii. 292 ; hea- 
thenism in, vi. 200 ; historical, de- 
stroys power to preach, i. 139 ; lost, 
142 ; vi. 200 ; miraculous claims, 
X. 106; xi. 25, 390; an Eastern 
monarchy, i. 129 ; no monopoly, 130 ; 
a mythus, 128 ; opinions in, x. 194 ; 
paganism in, 110 ; a protest, 106 ; 
preaching, i. 139; and other reli- 
gions, viii. 174 ; xi, 391 ; vigor lost 
by, ii. 84. 

Chronology, a kitchen clock, viii. 202. 

Church, as amusement, iii. 254; au- 
thority, 239, 265 ; beneficent, x. 
117, 218, 228, 355; Calvinistic and 
liberal, iii. 265 ; x. 116 ; clergy fall- 
ing from, 238 ; cramps, xi. 382 ; 
early customs, 18 ; doctrines, ii. 
52 ; externality, vi. 201 ; false sen- 
timent, iii. 249 ; famine, i. 134 ; his- 
tory, xi. 383; leaving, iii. 249; of 
one member, xi. 389 ; clings to the 
miraculous, x. 114 ; not necessary, 
vi. 195 ; new, 229 ; opinions on, iv. 
151 ; outgrown, xi. 382 ; now in re- 
form movements, iii. 239 ; religion 
and, 265 ; vi. 226 ; saints persecuted 
by, V. 203 ; the scholar is, x. 238 ; 
scientific, vi. 229; sepulchre, viii. 
310 ; services, i. 138 ; the silent 
church, before service, ii. 71 ; and 
slavery, x. 114 ; and soul, i. 141 ; 
stinginess, xi. 391 ; tottering, i. 134 ; 
value, X. 193, 195 ; the wise need 
none, iii. 206 ; withered, iv. 117 ; 
yoke, ii. 129. 

Church, bells, vii. 281 ; building, ii. 
54 ; going to, i. 136, 141. 

Cicero, de Senectute, -vii. 297. 

Cid, vii. 189, 207 ; viii. 29, 295 ; x. 45 ; 
xi. 262. 

Cineas, question of, xi. 326. 

Circe, iii. 140, 227. 

Circles, ii. 279-300 ; iv. 107 ; vii. 138. 

Circumstances, depend on the man, i. 
266, 316; ii. 61; iii. 96; vi. 295; 
vii. 115 ; xi. 192 ; a costume, i. 158 ; 
ii. 116, 120 ; x. 141, 385 ; power and, 
vi. 19 ; robber-troops of, viii. 233 ; 
trust not in, xi. 190, 

Circumstantial evidence, x. 449. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



287 



Cities, make us artificial, vii. 148 ; at- 
tractions, vi. 58, 142 ; not the cer- 
tificate of civilization, vii. 35 ; ef- 
fects and causes of civilization, xi. 
106; reinforced from the country, 
i. 24 ; iii. 126 ; vl. 142 ; vii. 136 ; ix. 
169, 214 ; cramp, iii. 165 ; dangers, 
vi. 212 ; degrade, 147 ; estimates, 
iii. 163; hiding in, vi. 212; influ- 
ence, vii. 148 ; x. 252 ; xii. 89 ; take 
the nonsense out of a man, vi. 143 ; 
are phalansteries, x. 336 ; clubs 
only in, vii. 230 ; solitude in, i. 13, 
169 ; stars in, 13 ; embodiment of 
thought, vi. 46 ; permanent tone, 
xii, 108 ; trade sows, ix. 25 ; walk- 
ing, vi. 45. 

Cityof God, i. 13; iii. 171. 

City state, Massachusetts, xii. 107. 

Civilization, vii. 21-37 ; armies 

carry, xi. 106 ; barbarities, 152 ; 
cities its first effects, 106 ; defini- 
tion, vii. 23; dress the mark of, 
viii. 86; ours English, x. 173; xi. 
152 ; train of felonies, iv, 170 ; he- 
roic, xi. 152, 279 ; history, iii. 118 ; 
X. 126 ; xi. 408 ; in its infancy, iii. 
207 ; vi. 295 ; man the test of, vii. 
34; xi. 419; meters of, x. 173; a 
mistake, 335 ; none without a deep 
morality, vii. 30 ; mounts, 156 ; no 
isolated perfection, xi. 173 ; of one 
race impossible while another race 
is degraded, 173 ; railroads plant, 
vii. 154 ; a reagent, v. 51 ; sleepy, 
xi. 397 ; styles, 152 ; triumphs, ii. 
82 ; vii. 159 ; xi. 325 ; in the United 
States, viii. 74 ; xi. 279 ; woman the 
index of, vii. 27 ; xi. 340. 

Civilization, American, xi. 275, 290. 

Clarendon, Lord, vii. 84 ; quoted, iv. 
19 ; V. 69 ; vii. 118. 

Class, best, in society, viii. 99. 

Classics, iii. 245, 

Classification, i. 87; ii. 17; vii. 310; 
pedantry of, viii. 160. 

Claude Lorraine glasses, vi. 299. 

Claverhouse, vi. 168. 

Clergy, character of, i. 95 ; x. 115 ; xi. 
351 ; their bronchitis, vi. 270 ; x. 
220 ; changed, 108, 238 ; their fitting 
companions, vi. 250, 271 ; emanci- 
pation of, X. 116; embarrassments, 
225; English, v. 210, 213; New 
England, xi. 75 ; opportunity, x. 
221 ; in politics, xi. 351 ; position, i. 
95, 139; their duty self-possession, 
X. 221 ; similarity, 220 ; subservi- 
ency, 220 ; teachers, 222 ; visits, i. 
143 ; vii. 215 ; voice, vi. 270 ; 
Wordsworth on, v. 208. 



Climate, English, v. 41, 94; coal a 
portable, vi. 86 ; infiuence, vii. 29, 
69, 143, 144; x. 171; xii. 85, 97; 
sword of, vi. 13. 

Clio's sheU, viii. 272 ; ix. 278. 

Cloaks of character, ii. 38 ; vii. 119. 

Clocks, vegetable, i. 24 ; geological, 
viii. 202. 

Clothes. See Dress. 

Cloud, bars of, i. 23 ; ii. 201 ; cannot 
be cut down, x. 449 ; eating, i. 327 ; 
flocks, 48 ; forms, ii. 23, 125 ; part- 
ing, iii. 73; purple awning, xi. 33; 
purple-piled, ix. 153 ; rack of, iii. 
225; vi. 295; we regard, ii. 213; 
sable pageantry, ix. 218 ; summer, 
iii. 184 ; sunset, 167 ; tent of, i. 
18. 

Clubs, vii. 211-236; transcendental, 
ii. 129 ; manners make, vi. 165, 260 ; 
scholars, vii. 210; must be exclu- 
sive, viii. 89 ; scientific, xii. 7. 

Coal, and civilization, x. 173 ; porta- 
ble climate, vi. 86 ; idealizes, xi. 
423; stored up sunshine, x. 73; 
work, vii. 153 ; viii. 262. 

Coat, of climate, i. 18 ; of philosophy, 
iv . 153 ; of hair, vi. 115. 

Cobbett, William, quoted, v, 108. 

Cobdeu, Richard, vi. 78. 

Cobweb, cloth of manners, viii. 80; 
clews, ix. 219. 

Cockayne, v. 140-148 ; vi. 117. 

Cockering, iii. 153 ; v. 188 ; vi. 248. 

Cohesion, social, vi. 194. 

Coincidences, viii. 51 ; x, 15, 27. 

Coke, Lord, v. 171 ; vi. 128. 

Cold, inconsiderate of persons, vi. 12, 
36 ; viii. 274 ; ix. 200. 

Coleridge, Samuel T., American ap- 
preciation of, xii. 98 ; cliaracterized, 
V. 236 ; his definitions, xii. 210 ; and 
Edinburgh Review, v, 279 ; on fear 
in battle, vii. 247 ; on French, v. 
236 ; on infancy, vii. 102 ; and Lan- 
dor, xii. 210 ; on poetry, 226 ; and 
Shakespeare, vii. 50 ; subjective- 
ness, xii. 186 ; visit to, v. 8, 13 ; on 
woman, viii. 92 ; xi. 337 ; quoted, i. 
49 ; X. 238. 

Cohseum, vii. 57. 

Colleges, advantages, vi. 139 ; x. 148 ; 
iii. 246 ; one benefit of, to show 
their little avail, vi. 139 ; festivals, 
vii. 120, 162; libraries, 183; natu- 
ral, iii. 247 ; x. 147 ; reading, vii. 
183; rules, ii. 308; office of, i. 94, 
99; X. 148; in civil war, 246; wit 
better than wealth in, i. 95. 

Collingwood, Lord, v. 69, 86, 120. 

Collignon, Auguste, iv. 155. 



288 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Collins, William, viii. 57 ; ix. 20G. 

Colonists, stutf for, vi. 245. 

Colomia, Vittoria, viii. 206 ; xii. 137. 

Color, vii. 282. 

Columbia of thought, xi. 329 ; xii. 
101. 

Columbus, Christopher, adaptation to 
his work, vi. 42 ; has given a chart 
to every sliip, iv. 18 ; discoveries, ii. 
84 ; iii. 81 ; xi. 329 ; eloquence, vii. 
82 ; fury to complete his map, vi. 
93 ; lonely, vii. 13 ; one in a thou- 
sand years, iv. 79 ; perception, xi. 
192 ; needs planet, ii. 39 ; reason of 
his voyage, i. 345 ; time fit for, vi. 
41 ; tobacco, 301 ; at Veragua, vii. 
2G9 ; sails wisdom, 55. 

Columns, the poetry of, vi. 279. 

Come-outers, i. 202 ; x. 352. 

Comedy, viii. 151. 

Comfort, vi. 148 ; vii. 108. 

Comic, The, viii. 149-166. 

Comma, aUve, iv. 2C8. 

Command, iii. 94 ; viii. 291 ; x. 120. 

Commander, because he is com- 
manded, i. 253 ; vii. 80 ; viii. 87 ; x. 
48, 153 ; xii. 238. 

Commandments, keeping the, iii. 66 ; 
V. 102 ; begin where we will, we are 
soon mumbling our ten command- 
ments, ii. 227. 

Commerce, beneficent tendency, i. 
184, 350, 354 ; of trivial import, ii. 
295 ; iii. 66 ; vi. 64, 87, 98, 107 ; po- 
etry of, X. 172 ; selfish, i. 220. 

Commines, Philip de, quoted, v. 82; 
viii. 119. 

Commodities, i. 18, 47, 226 ; ii. 196 ; 
vi. 274. 

Common sense, i. 176; ii. 220; iii. 
176 ; vi. 99 ; astonishes, vii. 275 ; is 
perception of matter, viii. 9; re- 
straining grace of, 26 ; xi. 421 ; as 
rare as genius, iii. 69. 

Common things, poetry of, i. 55, 110 ; 
iv. 55 ; vii. 169 ; xii. 40. 

Communism, Communities, i. 359 ; 
iii. 252; vi. 67; x. 183, 325; xii. 
251 ; the members will be fractions 
of men, iii. 251. See, also, Associa- 
tions, Brook Farm. 

Compact, highest, vi. 184, 

Companions, iii. 63 ; vi. 130, 256, 259/; 
vii. 216, 218, 230, 232 ; viii. 88. 

Company, adaptedness, vii. 228 ; bad, 
i. 327 ; defects, iii. 63 ; desire for, 
64 ; viii. 90 ; evening, vi. 177 ; good, 
vii. 222 ; viii. 89 ; x. 139 ; high, of 
soul, 275; limitations, ii. 198; low, 
liking for, vii. 232 ; self-distribution 
in, 19 ; need not show cause for 



seeking or shunning, ii. 53 ; forced 
smile in, 56 ; suiierers in, vii. 220 ; 
paralysis of unfit, xii. 24. 

Compensation, ii. 89-122; ix. 77, 229, 

of actions, ii. 281 ; belief in, vi. 

56 ; pay debts, x. 128 ; for errors, 
iv. 154; fatal, vii. 300; of friend- 
ship, iii. 262 ; for evils of govei'ii- 
ment, vi. 63 ; illustrations, 241 ; of 
infirmities, iii. 266 ; memory, xii. 
74 ; nature a, vii. 280 ; old age, 309 ; 
pain has its compensations, xii. 
270/; in trade, vi. 107; of uni- 
verse, i. 231. 

Competitions, iv. 27. 

Complainers, i. 235 ; vi. 148, 188. 

Complaisance, i. 155, 209, 

Complexion, in old age, vii, 309; xi. 
348. 

Compliance, ii. 199 ; iii. 82. 

Compliments, the highest, i, 276; ii. 
274. 

Composure, iii. 129 ; viii. 85. 

Compromises, ii. 190 ; vi. 203 ; xi. 
283, 404. 

Compunctions, time wasted in, iv. 
132. 

Concealment, ii. 151 ; of what does 
not concern us, iii. 231 ; no, vi. 
212. 

Conceit, the distemper of, ii. 113 ; vi. 
128, 133 ; vii. 278 ; viii. 104. 

Concentration, i. 223 ; iv. 225 ; v. 86 ; 
vi. 74, 75, 127; viii. 294; x. 261; 
xii. 47, 53. 

Concert in action, iii. 252 ; vii. 16, 

Concini's wife, iii. 94. 

Concord, Historical Discourse, xi. 
31-97. 

Hymn, ix. 139. 

Ode, ix. 173. 

Soldiers' Monument, Address, 

xi. 99-128. 

Committee of Safety, x. 357, 

note; drainage at, vii. 144/; fairy 
tales true at, ii. 38 ; Kossuth at, xi. 
359 ; Plain, ix. 213 ; Revolution not 
begun in, i. 209 ; River, iii. 166 ; ix. 
128 ; social circle, x. 357, note. 

Cond(5, Prince of, vii. 252. 

Condillac, quoted, i. 313. 

Condition, i. 10; equalizes itself, ii, 
96; favorable, viii, 257, 262; every 
man's condition an answer to the 
inquiries he would put, i. 10. 

Conduct, vi. 9 ; vii. 239 ; x. 199. See, 
also, Behavior, Manners. 

Confessionals, two, ii. 73. 

Confidence, vi. 184. See, also. Cour- 
age, Sclf-Confidence, Trust. 

Conformity, scatters your force, i. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



289 



143, 232 ; ii. 51, 55, 56, 60, 61 ; iii. 
99, 244 ; v. 27, 217 ; ix. 266 ; xi. -404. 
See, also, Consistency, Custom, 
Fashion. 

Confucius, and Christianity, viii. 174 ; 
genius, vii. 186 ; inspiration, viii. 
261 ; xii. 184 ; quoted, ii. 151 ; v. 
260 ; viii. 85, 98, 174, 203, 261 ; x. 
117, 120 ; xii. 96. 

Congress, of nations, xi. 201 ; U. S., v. 
290 ; vii. 76 ; xi. 162, 353. 

Conquer, they can who believe they 
can, vii. 248 ; viii. 142. 

Conquest, true, ii. 299. 

Conscience, i. 223, 285 ; essentially 
absolute, historically limited, 286 ; 
disconsolate, iii. 66 ; ix. 78 ; agree- 
ment of, 203 ; vii. 208 ; xi. 333 ; li- 
cense breeds, vi. 65 ; not good for 
hands, 67. 

Conscientiousness, hair-splitting, i. 
252 ; X. 344. 

Consciousness, the double, vi. 49 ; a 
sliding scale, iii. 74. 

Consecutiveness, the need of, xii. 48, 
147. 

Consequences, disdain of, xi. 199. 

Conservative, The, i. 277-307. 

Conservatism, its basis fate, i. 255- 
284 ; iii. 201, 234, 258 ; assumes sick- 
ness as a necessity, 301 ; iv. 103, 
213, 243 ; vi. 18, 65 ; xi. 217, 218. 
See, also, Democracy, Radicalism. 

Considerations by the Way, vi. 231- 
2()3. 

Consistency, foolish, ii. 57, 58, 61. 
See, also. Conformity. 

Consolation, doctrine of, x. 86; xii. 
271. 

Constantinople, natural capital of the 
globe, X. 330. 

Constellations, of facts, ii. 14 ; of 
men, iv. 194 ; of cities, vii. 35. 

Constituencies, hearken to the man 
who stands for a fact, iii. 91 ; xi. 
208. 

Constitution. See U. S., Constitu- 
tion. 

Consuelo, Sand, iv. 265 ; vi. 164 ; vii. 
204. 

Consuetudes, ii. 202. 

Contagion, of energy, iv. 18, 29 ; xii. 
22. 

Contemplation, iv. 254 ; x. 226 ; Eng- 
lish nobility not addicted to, v. 169. 

Contention, ii. 225 ; viii. 96. 

Contentment, ii. 153 ; iii. 63 ; viii. 
231. 

Contradictions, of life, iii. 233. 

Contradictory, vii. 231, 251. 

Contrite wood-life, ii. 69. 



Contritions, ii. 296 ; viii. 96. 

Controversy, degrades, ii. 225; xi. 
387 

Conventionalism, i. 366 ; iii. 99, 136 ; 
vi. 247 ; vii. 13 ; viii. 235 ; reaction 
against, iv. 275. 

Conversation, vi. 256-258; vii. 213- 
229 ; viii. 88-98, 276-278 ; ability in, 
vi. 78, 257 ; affinity in, ii. 198 ; vii. 
19 ; American and English, v. 112 ; 
best of arts, xi. 340; best between 
two, ii. 197 ; vii. 228, 236 ; benefits, 
iii. 31 ; vi. 143 ; vii. 215 ; of black- 
smiths, iv. 101 ; Carlyle's, x. 455 ; 
celestial, xii. 99; chalk eggs, viii. 
95 ; a game of circles, ii. 289 ; con- 
viction, viii. 295 ; in the country, 
vi. 143 ; egotism spoils, vii. 273 ; 
equality, iii. 266 ; evanescent rela- 
tion, ii. 198 ; exaggeration, iii. 135 ; 
X. 159 ; fatigue of conventional, xi. 
205 ; flower of civilization, 340 ; 
game of, viii. 276 ; xii. 8 ; best of 
all goods, vi. 257 ; happiness, iii. 
137 ; adapted to shape of heads, 57 ; 
needs heat, vii. 17 ; Hobbes on, vi. 
143 ; houses of, viii. 278 ; incen- 
tives, ii. 184 ; inspiration, viii. 254, 
276, 290 ; universal joy, iv. 250 ; law 
of, ii. 197 ; x. 140 ; best of life, vi. 
184, 255 ; a magnetic experiment, 
vii. 19; third party in, ii. 260; a 
Pentecost, 289 ; personal, 163 ; iii. 
99 ; vi. 131 ; vii. 218 ; viii. 90, 302 ; 
needs practice, vi. 256; price, iii. 
182 ; reading inferred from, viii. 
288 ; Dr. Ripley's, x. 3(57 ; rules, 
viii. 94-97 ; do not daub with sables 
and glooms, vii. 291 ; the true 
school of philosophy, viii. 276 ; ser- 
vile, ii. 273 ; spoilt, 185, 195 ; spon- 
taneity, iii. 70 ; success, 36 ; supper 
as basis, vii. 233 ; surfaces, vi. 257 ; 
Swedenborg, iv. 124 ; topics, vi. 132, 
188, 257 ; vii. 213 ; viii. 89, 94 ; xi. 
183 ; travel, vi. 255 ; tricks, iii. 228 ; 
vii. 120 ; tropes, viii. 17 ; shows 
unity, iii. 266 ; universe, vi. 258 ; 
war spoils, xi. 184 ; wit, viii. 187 ; 
woman's, vii. 214 ; viii. 91 ; xi. 340. 
See Discourse. 

Conversion by miracles, i. 131 ; of evil 
spirits, iv. 133 ; Norse mode of, vi. 
197, 201. 

Convertibility, vi. 288; viii. 27; x. 
177. 

Conviction, vii. 91 ; viii. 292 ; x. 226 ; 
xii. 23. 

Coolness, iii. 134 ; viii. 85 ; x. 40. See, 
also. Courage, Presence of Mind, 
Self-Control. 



290 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Cooperation, vii. 14 ; x. 337. 

Copernican theory, x. 317. 

Copyright, iii. 67; Plato's, iv. 76; 
Persian, viii. 239. 

Corn, shall serve man, xi. 417 ; hon- 
est, xii. 104. 

Corn-laws, vi. 202; xi. 293. 

Corporal pimishment, x. 150, 151. 

Corpse, adds beauty, i. 22 ; ii. 125 ; of 
memory, 58. 

Correlations, vi. 47, 48; viii. 201, 
211. 

Correspondences, iv. 62, 102, 112, 116 ; 
vii. 283 ; viii. 15, 51, 257 ; xii. 73. 

Costume, of circumstances, i. 158 ; x. 
15 ; novels of, iv. 264 ; xii. 233. 

Cotton, not to rule, i. 184; x. 202, 
334; what is?, 396. 

Coimsel, from the breast, vii. 275; 
viii. 293 ; x. 63. See, also, Advice. 

Countenance, viii. 83. See, also, Face. 

Country life, i. 24, 36, 349 ; v. 171, 
173 ; vi. 142 ; vii. 281 ; viii. 146. 

Country people, ii. 75; iii. 126, 129, 
167 ; vi. 107, 117, 147, 212 ; vii. 133, 
136 ; ix. 62, G3 ; x. 165. 

Courage, vii. 237-263 ; beams of Al- 
mighty, 33, 258 ; depends on circu- 
lation, vi. 57 ; of duty, 221 ; new 
face on things, viii. 141 ; fate teaches, 
vi. 29 ; X. 94 ; of girls, iii. 122 ; re- 
sult of knowledge, iv. 63; vi. 135; 
vii. 247 ; viii. 324 ; universal need 
of, 113, 288 ; x. 41 ; of principle, xi. 
282 ; to ask questions, viii. 94 ; 
scholar's, x. 260, 294; silent, vii. 
255; teaches, i. 133; Thor, symbol 
of, ii. 72 ; two o'clock in the morn- 
ing, iv. 226. 

Courtesy, iii. 120, 132, 134 ; viii. 85 ; 
xi. 217. See Behavior, Maimers, 
Politeness. 

Courts of justice, vii. 85, 86 ; wait for 
precedents, 275. 

Courtship, English, v. 107. 

Cousins, i. 324; iv. 45; things our, 
vii. 93. 

Coventry, going to, iii. 128 ; vi. 155 ; 
cathedral, v. 270. 

Cowardice, i. 95; ii. 49, 74, 276; iii. 
259 ; V. 101 ; vi. 33 ; vii. 243, 244, 
255 ; ix. 202 ; xi. 109, 197, 200. See, 
also, Courage, Fear. 

Cowry, V. 109 ; vi. 23. 

Cows, make paths, vi. 119; signal, 
171 ; hold up milk, vii. 221 ; no in- 
terest in landscape, viii. 30. 

Crab, backward-creeping, xi. 418. 

Crack in everything, ii. 104. 

Creation, the, i. 10 ; law of, ii. 340 ; 
iii, 173 ; viii. 10. 



Creative, manners, i. 92, 94, 317 ; aims, 

, ii. 328 ; vii. 203 ; xi. 342. 

Creator, the, m man, i. 68, 92, 271; 
iii. 32 ; keeps his word, viii. 319. 
See, also, God, Lord. 

Credit, i. 293 ; viii. 84. See, also, Be- 
lief, Faith, Trust. 

Creeds, change, x. 194, 227 ; classifi- 
cations of some one's mind, ii. 78 ; 
decay, x. 113, 235 ; depend on tem- 
perament, iii. 55 ; not final, ii. 79 ; 
multiplicity, xi. 389 ; outgrown, 382 ; 
reverence, x. 194 ; shrivel, viii. 201 ; 
out of unbeliefs, iii. 76. See, also, 
Belief, Church, Religion. 

Crillon, Count de, quoted, viii. 181. 

Crime, no shock to Americans, xi. 
216; not so black in us as in the 
felon, iii. 79 ; depend on price of 
bread, vi. 103 ; not to be concealed, 
ii. 112 ; must disappear, x. 223 ; 
English, V. 64 ; defeats end of exist- 
ence, xi. 223 ; of intellect, experi- 
ments, iii. 80 ; viii. 297 ; factitious, 
V. 96 ; of fraud m place of those of 
force, 310 ; ink of, viii. 297 ; earth 
is glass to, ii. 112 ; love remedy for, 
vi. 208 ; nature rids itself of, x. 184 ; 
does not pay, xi. 288, 422 ; earth a 
picture of, x. 186 ; punishment, the 
fruit of, ii. 100, 117 ; cause of, iii. 
224 ; not excused, xi. 223 ; snow re- 
veals, ii. 112 ; more lightly thought 
of than spoken of, iii. 79 ; proof of 
superiority, v. 64 ; temple built of, 
ii. 296 ; ugliness, xi. 175 ; may be 
virtue, i. 318 ; blimder worse than, 
iii. 80. 

Criminals, on even terms with each 
other, ii. 201. 

Cripples, the spirit does not love, vi. 
227 ; X. 188. 

Crises, the angel shown in, i. 46 ; ii. 
10, 247. 

Criticism, law of, i. 40 ; iii. 230 ; age 
of, i. 109, iii. 61, 243, x. 159, 310 ; 
insufficiency its own, iii. 269; pov- 
erty of, vii. 279 ; ix. 31. 

Critic, the over-soul, ii. 252 ; vii. 289 ; 
a failed poet, viii. 58. 

Crockery gods, xi. 228. 

Cromwell, Oliver, vi. 241 ; vii. 33 ; ix. 
171 ; quoted, ii. 300 ; xi. 221. 

Crump and his native devils, ii. 127. 

Crusades, x. 234. 

Cuba, i. 221 ; xi. 217. 

Cudworth, Ralph, vi. 193. 

Culture, vi. 125-159. 

Poem, ix. 232. 

Progress of, viii. 195-222. 

is the suggestion of wider aflSn- 



GENERAL INDEX. 



291 



ities, vi. 132; aims, ii. 211; birth 
its basis, iv. 65 ; calamity and 
odium means of, vi. 155 ; calomel' 
of, X. 151 ; ours cheap, xi. 152 ; 
drawbacks to, iv. 152 ; must begin 
early, \i. 157 ; kills egotism, 133 ; 
effects, i. 54, 55 ; iv. 47 ; identifica- 
tion of the Ego with the universe, 
xii. 57 ; the end to whicli a house is 
built, vii. 114; Euglish, v. 189; 
enormity of, viii. 205 ; without 
grandeur, i. 152 ; ends in headache, 
iii. 61 ; ours European, xii. 258 ; in- 
dependence, viii. 207 ; instinct, xii. 
34; life is for, iv. 272; xi. 222; 
manual labor as, i. 225 ; measure of, 
X. 58 ; its measure the number of 
things taken for granted, 58 ; vii. 
16 ; moral sentiment its foundation, 
viii. 216 ; its office to correct nar- 
rowness, vi. 127 ; Plato's word, iv. 
64; politics, viii. 206; power, 207; 
proof, vi. 279; religion its flower, 
196 ; results, i. 107 ; scale of, vi. 
290 ; scientific, 209 ; scope, viii. 206 ; 
its secret to interest men more in 
their public than in their private 
character, vi. 1.50, 151, 263; effect 
of society, i. 295 ; vii. 16 ; x, 36 ; 
can spare nothing, vi. 158 ; super- 
ficial, 183; travel, 139, 253; truc- 
kling, x. 133 ; inverts vulgar views, 
i. 63 ; war forwards, xi. 180. 

Cup, of life, X. 46 ; of the earth, vii. 
165, 300-1 ; of thought, iii, 174. 

Cupid, ii. 340; vi. 274-75; ix. 19, 
92 f, 219. 

CuPiDO, ix, 221. 

Curfew stock, vi. 151. 

Curiosity, lies in wait, viii. 215 ; Eng- 
lish absence of, v. 104. 

Curls, witchcraft of, vii. 103, 285. 

Currents, of mind, ii. 306; viii. 12; 
X. 189. 

Custom, ruts of, i. 232, 238 ; nullified, 
296; ii. 76, 133; iii. 164; iv. 164; 
English deference to, v. 109 ; works 
for us, vi. 117/; opium of, x. 128. 
See, also, Conformity, Fashion. 

Customers, viii. 138 ; xi. 153. 

Cynics, iv. 148 ; vii. 303. 

Cypresses, iv. 138 ; v. 265. 

Dsedalus, ix. 9, 149, 208. 

DEMONIC Love, ix. 97-101. 

Dsemons, iii. 29, 42; iv. 63, 106; vi. 

48 ; ix. 26, 98 ; x. 98. 
Daguesseau, xii. 68. 
Dalton, John, vii. 225. 
Dance, in men's lives, viii. 70 ; x. 42. 
Dancing, vi. 138, 277. 



Dandamis, quoted, iii. 265. 

Dandelion, duped by a, vi. 113. 

Danger, vi. 29, 51. 

Daniel, Samuel, quoted, vii. 33. 

Dante, we are civil to, viii. 68; bad 
company, vii. 13 ; like Euclid, viii. 
73 ; writes proudly, xii. 195 ; imagi- 
nation and insight, iii. 10 ; iv. 206 ; 
V. 222 ; viii. 31, 73 ; xii. 45, 225 ; can 
be parsed, viii. 20 ; realism, iii. 40 ; 
vindictive, iv. 131 ; contempt of the 
vulgar, xii. 135. 

Dark Ages, viii. 204. 

Dartmouth College, Address at, i. 
149-180. 

Daughter, birth of, in China, xi. 346. 

David, King, ii. 240. 

Day, ix. 196; apprehension of, the 
measure of a man, vii. 171 ; bask in, 
280 ; be a, 172 ; beams from eter- 
nity, X. 226 ; best, xii. 74 ; fill with 
bravery, iii. 40; carnival of year, 
vii. 163; as centuries, vi. 235; of 
Charles V., i. 158 ; creeping, x. 131 ; 
cups of pearl, ix. 264 ; darkened, x. 
53; day of, vi. 29; deformed and 
low, ix. 152 ; divine, vii. 161 ; every 
day is doomsday, 168; dress, 163; 
fabric of, vi. 81 ; two faces, ix. 197 ; 
of facts, X. 132 ; farmer's, 76 ; name 
of God, vii. 160 ; give me a, i. 23 ; 
great, ii. 205 ; vi. 29, 289 ; vii. 163, 
289 ; viii. 20, 226, 330 ; halcyon, iii. 
103 ; happy, xii. 74 ; haughty, ix. 
173 ; all holy, ii. 17 ; hypocritic, iii. 
50 ; vii. 161 ; ix. 196 ; x. 131 ; inter- 
calated, iii. 50 ; x. 227 ; long time 
to find out, viii. 28 ; lord of, i. 159 ; 
of lot, viii. 226 ; lucky, x. 21 ; mel- 
ancholy, iii. 188 ; memorable, vi. 
289 ; vii. 162, 163 ; viii. 330 ; x. 102 ; 
fitted to mind, vii. 161 ; won from 
moon, iii. 50 ; muffled, vii. 161 ; 
new with new works, i. 358 ; qual- 
ity, not number, important, 330; 
October, iii. 163 ; opal-colored, ix. 
157 ; in panorama of year, 121 ; 
good, in which most perceptions, 
viii. 280 ; he only rich who owns the 
day, i. 105 j vii. 161 ; adorn with 
sacrifices, viii. 104 ; sleeps on hiUs, 
iii. 163 ; solid good, 64 ; sped, iv. 
26 ; cut into strips, 98 ; viii. 273 ; 
elastic tent, ix. 280 ; sold for 
thoughts, X. 247 ; treat respectful- 
ly, vii. 172 ; the two in man's his- 
tory, X. 172; unalterable, ix. 227; 
undermining, ii. 123 ; unprofitable, 
iii. 50 ; value, vi. 235 ; vii. 163, 168, 
216 ; viii. 268, 320 ; warp and woof, 
vii. 163 ; of youth, 216, 280 ; the 



292 



GENERAL INDEX. 



wise man is he who can unfold tho 
theory of this particular Wednes- 
day, 171. See, also, Time, To-day, 
Years. 

DAy's Ration, ix. 121, 122. 

Death, viii. 308-313 ; badness, i. 124 ; 
a concealment, iii. 231 ; envied, ii. 
248; desire for, x. 400; xii. 139; 
fear of, vi. 227 ; vii. 30G ; viii. 312 ; 
of friends, ii. 121 ; adds owner to 
land, ix. 3G ; love makes impossible, 
ii. 248 ; not souglit as relief from 
duty, vi. 228 ; reality, iii. 53 ; a se- 
curity, ii. 248 ; of a sou, iii. 52 ; 
ways of, viii. 327. 

Debate, extempore, i. IGl ; viii. 100. 

Debt, collecting, viii. 84 ; memory of, 
xii. 70 ; other than money, ii. 295 ; 
vii. 112; paying, ii. 109, 294; iii. 
153 ; V. 151 ; vi. 290, 305 ; ix. 238 ; a 
preceptor, i. 43 ; slavery, vi. 90 ; 
voracity, 114. 

Decision, nnist be made, vi. 70. 

Decorum, English, v. 110; x. 400; 
unprincipled, vi. 235. See, also, 
Etiquette. 

Deeds, iii. 14, 89. See Actions. 

Defeat, gauiful, viii. 94. 

Defects, useful, ii. 112 ; iii. 23 ; v. 
144 ; vi. 38. 

Deference, iii. 129, 133 ; xii. 28. 

Definitions, defining, is philosophy, 
iv. 49 ; he that can define is tlie best 
man, vii. 222 ; x. 100 ; xii. 210. 

Defoe, Daniel, v. 223; quoted, 54, 
123. 

Deformity, from infraction of spiritual 
laws, ii. 125, 234 ; from fixity, vi. 
277. 

Degeneracy, viii. 179 ; x. 235. 

Degrees, man, a being of, vi. 121 ; x. 
101. 

Deity, personality of, ii. 58 ; makes 
many, one, 180 ; iv. 54 ; viii. 292 ; 
antlnopomorphism, xii. 121. See, 
also, Divinity, God, Lord. 

Deliverly, vii. 210. 

Delphi, oracle of, not uncommanded, 
vii. 251 ; xii. 40. 

Democracy, iii. 193 ; better relatively 
to us, not absolutely, 198, 201, 228; 
iv. 213, 243 ; vi. 65 ; x. 38 ; xi. 217, 
408. 

Democrat, ripens into a conservative, 
iii. 234. 

Den\on. See Divmon. 

Demonology, X. 7-32. 

Demophoon, x. 101. 

Demosthenes, vii. 70, 74, 97. 

Denderah, zodiac, i. 137. 

Depth of living, ii. 243 ; vii. 175. 



Dervishes, Song of, ix. 249, 250. 

ix. 117, 190, 205. 

Desatir, quoted, iii. 02 ; xii. 254. 
Desire, insatiable, iv. 175; flame of, 

viii. 102 ; predicts satisfaction, 320 ; 

xi. 190. See, also, Hopes, Wishes. 
Despair, system of, i. 301 ; iii. 254 ; x. 

135 ; vi. 199 ; no muse, 252. 
Despondency, comes readily, vii. 292 ; 

xii. 201 ; unworthy, x. 230. 
Destiny, ix. 32/. 
beneficent, i. 351 /; deaf, iv. 168, 

175; vi. 11; teaches courage, 28; 

viii. 220 ; an immense whim, xii. 

203/. See, also. Fate. 
Detaching, power of, ii. 330 ; xi. 222 ; 

xii. 35. 
Details, melancholy, ii. 163; iii. 220, 

220 ; X. 05. 
Determination, needful, vi. 130. See, 

also, Purpose, Will. 
Development, viii. 13, 250; x. 180; 

xi. 408; xii. 20. See, also, Evolu- 
tion. 
Devil's, attorney, iv. 105 ; vi. 193 ; 

Burns on, iv. i33 ; x. 282 ; child, ii. 

52 ; confessions, vi. 172 ; dear old, 

iii. 04 ; Goethe on, iv. 203 ; nestles 

into .all things, xi. 221 ; party, 403 ; 

respect for, viii. 290 ; respect virtue, 

ii. 150 ; Shakers send to market, vi. 

67 ; not to have best tunes, xi. 368. 

See, also, Satan. 
Dew, varnish of, i. 155; vi. 163; 

world globe itself in, ii. 991. 
Dexterity, value, xi. 211. 
Dial, The, x. 324 ; Papers from, xii. 

175-272. 
Dial in shade, ii. 198. 
Dialectics, iii. 01 ; iv. 62, 77 ; Scotch, 

V. 55. 
Diamagnetism, viii. 289. 
Diamonds, growth of ages, ii. 199 ; 

best plain-set, vii. 112 ; road mended 

with, viii. 103. 
Diaries, iii. 180; viii. 266, 292. 
Dibdin's Bibliomania quoted, vii. 200. 
Dice, Nature's loaded, i. 44; ii. 99; 

vi. 211. 
Dickens, Charles, x. 56 ; in America, " 

vi. 167 ; X. 235 ; works, v. 234. 
Dictionary, life a, i. 98 ; a good book, 

iii. 22 ; vii. 201. 
Diderot, viii. 298 ; quoted, vii. 221. 
Dido, Chaucer's picture, vi. 198. 
Diet, iii. 240; vi. 148; vii. 114; xii. 

240. 
DilTorences, perception of, i. 44. 
Dirticulties, ii. 120 ; viii. 219. 
Digby, Sir Kenehu, v. 79; quoted, 

80; xii. 37. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



293 



Dimo, value, i. 3G2. 

Diuner.s, in England, v. Ill ; art of, 
vi. 78 ; emphasis on, vii, 115 ; public, 
233 ; X, IGG. 

Dirge, ix. 127-129 ; of mountain blasts, 
X. 371. 

Dirt, chemistry knows no, xii. 51 ; 
children love, x. 345. 

Disasters, benefactors, ii. 112 ; opium 
in, iii. 51 ; exaggerated, x. IGO. See, 
nl.so, Accidents, Calamity, Misfor- 
tune. 

Discipline, i. 42 ; value, vi. 134 ; x. 
142. 

Discontent, infirmity of will, ii. 77 ; 
iii. 239 ; vi. 251 ; xii. 185, 200, 252/. 

Discouragement, easy, vii. 291 /. 

Discourse, ii. 290/. See Conversa- 
tion. 

Discoveries, iii. 17G ; iv. 17 ; vi. 47 ; 
vii. 270; viii. 28. 

Discrepancy, seers of, v. 22G; viii. 
154. 

Disease, has its inlet in human crime 
and its outlet in human suffering, 
ii. 234 ; no respecter of persons, vi. 
12 /, 23, 3G ; vii. 305. See Sick- 
ness. 

Disinterestedness, vii. 239. 

Dislocation, in our relation to nature, 
ii. 217 ; viii. 179 ; in dreams, x. 11. 

Display, lust of, i. 170 ; vi. 14G. 

Dispositions, a world for trying each 
other's dispositions, x. 381. 

Dispvites, ii. 225 ; vii. 214 ; xi. 387 ; 
xii. 22. 

D'Israeli, Benjamin, novels, iv. 2G5 ; 
xii. 235/. 

Dissatisfaction of youth, iv. 175. 

Dissent, iii. 239, 243 ; fury of, x. 344. 

Dissimulation, ii. 148. 

Dissipation, iii. 32 ; vi. 74, 244 ; x. GO. 

Distrust, i. 240, 2G8 ; of sentiment, ii. 
50; vi. 201. 

Diver, genius a, i. 157. 

Divination, iv. 93 ; x. 2G ; women's 
power of, xi. 345. 

Divine, animal, iii. 31 ; building, vii. 
122; circuits, iii. 2G9 ; is the truly 
human, xi. 333 ; mind, x. 192 ; 
moments, ii. 295 ; nature, i. 126 ; 
persons, iii. 106, 111 ; vii. 121 ; pres- 
ence, iii. 257 ; sentiment, 172 ; sig- 
nificance of things, viii. 14 ; spirit, 
ii. GG. 

Divhiity, approaches, vi. 289 ; in at- 
oms, 221 ; of beauty, ii. 173 ; behind 
failures, iii. GO ; faith in, i. 126 ; im- 
mortal, 28 ; intimate, 210 ; of Jesus, 
see Jesus Christ ; in man, vi. 221 ; 
viii. 292; x. 99; xi. 383; Plato's 



faith, iv. 69; ray of, ii. 91. See^ 
also, Deity, God. 

Divinity Schooi,, Cambridge, Ad- 
dress AT, i, 117. 

Division of labor. See Labor. 

Divorce, iv. 123 ; xii. 167. 

Divulgatory, xi. 389. 

Do, wliat you know, i. 211 ; vvhat you 
can best, ii. 55, 81 ; vi. 91 ; vii. 274 ; 
X. 261 ; what you are afraid to do, 
380. 

Doctors. See Physicians. 

Doddington, Bubb, quoted, x. 50. 

Dogmas, i. 137; vii. 214, 283; x. 109, 
193. 

Dogmatism, i. 179 ; ii. 94, 292 ; x. 
220. 

Doing, and being, vi. 206; and hav- 
ing, ii. 136 ; and knowing, i. 211 ; 
vii. 303; viii. 325; and saying, iii. 
13 ; is success, i. 174 ; ii. 149 ; 
teaching by, 144. 

Dollar, i. 237; ii. 54, 129; heavy and 
light, vi. 100 ^V X. 259. 

Dolls, vi. 156 ; *x. 190. 

Domestic Life, vii. 99-129. 

Englisli, v. 107 ; vi. 77. 

Domestics, i. 240 ; vi. 260 ; vii. 113. 
See, also. Servants. 

Donne, John, viii. 55 ; quoted, ii. 175. 

Doors of truth in every intelligence, 
i. 219 ; ii. 305 ; iii. 30, 58. 

Doria, Andrew, viii. 291. 

Doric temples, ii. 24. 

Doses, people to be taken in, vii. 18. 

Double consciousness, i. 333 ; vi. 49. 

Doubts, ii. 126 ; iv. 1G5, 171, 172. 

Drainage, in Concord, vii. 144/. 

Drawing, ii. 313/, 314. 

Dreams, x. 9-32 ; absurdities, vi. 44 ; 
make us artists, ii. 314 ; attractive, 
300 ; bad, iv. 135 ; dislocation tlieir 
foremost trait, x. 11 ; sequel of 
day's experiences, ii. 140 ; viii. 215 ; 
a fact worth a limbo of, x. 1G2 ; 
Germany of, i. 23 ; Heraclitus on, 
X. 25; liave a poetic integrity, 13; 
melting matter into, 247 ; the ma- 
turation of unconscious opinions, 
14 ; jealous of memory, 10 ; poetic, 
viii. 47 ; and surface, iii. 47 ; a rush 
of tliouglits, xii. 80 ; wisdom in, i. 
70 ; world a, 66, 286 ; of youth, iii. 
193 ; vi. 251 ; viii. 177. 

Dress, adaptation, viii. 164 ; American 
good sense in, 86 ; best when not 
noticed, v. 85 ; and manners, 80, 87 ; 
relation to person, viii. 1G4 ; re- 
straint, vi. 145 ; gives tranquillity, 
viii. 88. See, also, Clothes, Fash- 
ion. 



294 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Drift, we can drift when we cannot 
steer, x. 189 

Drill, virtue of, vi. 77, 79 ; x. 142. 

Drinks of literary men, viii. 145. 

Drop cannot exhibit storm, iv. 100. 

Drowaiing, experience of, xii. 80. 

Drowsy strength, iii. 136. 

Drowsiness of usage, iii. 245 ; iv. 1G4. 

Drudgery, i. 96. 

Druids, v. 192, 263, 267. 

Drunkards' hands, iii. 63. 

Drunkenness, counterfeit of genius, 
ii. 300. 

Dryden, John, viii. 73. 

Dualism of nature and man, i. 55 ; ii. 
94. 

Dumont, Pierre, quoted, viii. 268. 

Duration, ii. 266, 296; vi. 228; vii. 
170, 175 ; viii. 331. 

Dust, grandeur nigh to, ix. 180. 

Dust-hole of thought, x. 13. 

Duties, that belong to us, ii. 55 ; vi. 
222 ; X. 59 ; not detachable, ii. 295 ; 
heeded, 155 ; heroism in, 247 ; liv- 
ing without duties is obscene, x. 54 ; 
lowlj-, ii. 247; x. 199; pack of, ix. 
161 ; relative, ii. 73/. 

Duty, clarion call, ix. 181 ; difficult, 
never far off, vii. 259 ; direct and 
reflex, ii. 73 ; x. 179, 191 ; fate and, 
xi. 218 ; grows everywhere. 111 ; a 
guide, vi. 222 ; intellectual and 
moral, ii. 318 ; law, xi. 383 ; light- 
ning-rod, vi. 221 ; the old, xii. 258 ; 
know your own, ii. 55; our place, 
79; sense of, i. 121, 125; whispers 
low, ix. 180 ; wishes and, x. 96 ; 
true worship, xi. 384. 

Dyspepsia, iii. 64 ; ix. 165. 

Each and All, ix. 14/. 

Each for all, vii. 138. 

Eagle, spread, xi. 412. 

Ear, a sieve, xii. 29. 

Earth, a balloon, i. 314; cup of na- 
ture, vii. 165 ; eyeless bark, ix, 
282 ; factory of power, viii. 135 ; 
works for man, vii. 146 ; fills her 
lap, ii. 140; laughs in flowers, ix. 
35; glass to crime, ii. 112 ; goes on 
earth, viii. 310; and heaven corre- 
spond, vi. 196; viii. 51, 311; host 
who murders guests, 233; howling 
wilderness, ix. 41 ; insignificance in 
nature, x. 317 ; lonely, ii. 89 ; a ma- 
chine, vii. 139 ; viii. 135 ; and man, 
1. 18; vii. 139; xi. 423; burnt 
metals, x. 72 ; productiveness, 73 ; a 
reading-room, xii. 190 ; quaked in 
rhyme, vi. 265 ; makes itself, 41 ; 
shape, i. 351 ; conspires with virtue, 



vii. 54 ; white-hot, i. 313. See, 
also, Planet, World. 

Earthquakes, vi. 13 ; learn geology 
from, 249. 

Eaeth-Song, ix. 36/. 

Earth-spirit, x. 311. 

Ease, to be dreaded, vi. 155. 

East, genius of the, x. 171, 173. 

Ebb of the soul, ii. 35. 

Eccentricity, success has no, vi. 81. 

Echo, do not be an, ii. 199 ; the world 
our, viii. 302 ; x. 185 ; xii. 27. 

Eclecticism, i. 165/; x. 291 ; nature's, 
ii. 328. 

Eclipse of genius, viii. 267. 

Economy, i. 234 ; ii. 221 ; v. 109 ; vi. 
90, 109 ; vii. 106 ; x. 128 ; nature's, 
352 ; look for seed of tlie kind you 
sow, vi. 120 ; symbolical, 122. 

Ecstasy, i. 192, 195, 201, 203, 217, 317 ; 
ii. 264, 306; iv. 61, 94, 97, 114; vi. 
44, 204, 295 ; viii. 262 ; x. 172. 

Edelweiss, x. 451. 

Edgeworth, Maria, novels, xii. 234. 

Education, x. 123-156 ; agitation on, 
in America, i. 345 ; vii. 116 ; xi. 
409 ; of amusements, vi. 137 ; best, 
ii. 127 ; bias in, viii. 290 ; Carlyle on, 
X. 461 ; classics in, iii. 245 ; college, 
vi. 139 ; defects, iii. 244 ; viii. 125 ; 
X. 134; defined, viii. 26; a system 
of despair, iii. 255 ; x. 135 ; two ele- 
ments, enthusiasm and drill, 144; 
fruitless, vi. 136 ; gymnastic in, iv. 
64 ; vi. 137 ; and happiness, iii. 255 ; 
labor, i. 224, 229 ; in dead lan- 
guages, iii. 245; love, a liberal, 
viii. 92 ; in Massachusetts, xii. 96 ; 
masters in, xi. 222 ; object, i. 302 ; 
X. 134; xi. 389; xii. 153; power, 
iii. 254 ; preventive, vi. 135 ; re- 
form, iii. 244 ; fosters restlessness, 
ii. 81 ; Roman rule, iii. 245 ; its se- 
cret lies in respecting the pupil, x. 
141; self-denial for, vi. 149; of 
senses, 204 ; of sexes, xi. 355 ; skep- 
ticism of, iii. 256 ; spiral tendency, 
vi. 267 ; stereotyped, iii. 246 ; sym- 
pathetic, ii. 127 ; vi. 143 ; to things, 
iii. 244 ; of women, see Women ; 'in 
words, 244 ; world for, viii. 317 ; 
elt'ect on young men, xii. 254. See, 
also, Colleges, Schools. 

Education-Farm, iii. 61. 

Effect, thing done for, vi. 181. See 
Cause and Effect. 

Ego, X. 25 ; xii. 57. 

Egotism, aid, vi. 244 ; antidotes, 134 ; 
buckram, vii. 273 ; chorea, vi. 128 ; 
dropsy, 129 ; exaggerated, v. 160 ; 
all things fuel to, vii. 121 ; genius 



GENERAL INDEX. 



295 



consumes, x. 402; goitre, vi. 129; 
iutluenza, 128 ; nature utilizes, 128 ; 
vii. 273 ; of prophets, xii. 8 ; root, 
vi. 130 ; iu society, ii. 198 ; scourKO 
of taleut, vi. 129; test of, xii. 182; 
viii. 325 ; universal, iii. 180 ; weak- 
ness, i- 309; vauishes iu presence 
of nature, 10. 

Egypt and Egyptians : architecture, 
ii. 24; art, vi. 274; x. 233; debt of 
churclies to, viii. 174 ; Herodotus 
on, 308 ; hieroglypliics, ii. 329 ; im- 
mortality, viii. 308 ; marble deserts, 
iii. 109 ; mysteries, i. 230 ; mythol- 
ogy, 128 ; Napoleon in, iv. 234, 237 ; 
X. 242 ; obelisk, vii. 57 ; xii. 191 ; 
vote of prophets, vi. 237. 

Eldoji, Lord, v. 194 ; quoted, iii. 234 ; 
V. 97, 108. 

Election, doctrine of, vi. 12. 

Elections, vi. 19 ; xi. 400. 

Elective affinities, ii. 293. 

Electric, light, viii. 300 ; telegraph, 
see Telegraph ; thrills, vi. 84, 

Electricity, of action, viii. 113 ; effect 
on air, iii. 177 ; arrested, x. 258 , 
not to be made fast, v. 220 ; inspira- 
tion like, viii. 259 ; a luxury, vi. 71 ; 
message-carrier, vii. 31 ; of poets, 
12 ; xii. 241 ; power, viii. 135 ; river, 
iii. 43 ; wisdom like, vii. 235 ; xii. 25. 

Elegance, true, i. 235 ; iii. 143 ; vii. 
111. 

Elegies, living on, vi. 09. 

Eleusinian mysteries, facts as, vi. 288. 

Eliot, John, quoted, ii. 240. 

Ellen, To, ix. 80. 

Eloquence, vii. 01-98; viii. 107-129; 

demands absoluteness, viii. 127 ; 

aids, vii. 49 ; dog-cheap at the anti- 
slavery chapel, xi. 132, 100 ; magic 
of personal ascendancy, vii. 77, 90; 
depends not on beauty, vi. 285 ; 
calamity instructs in, i. 96 : its des- 
potism, vii. 42, 07 ; indicates uni- 
versal health, viii. 113; needs heat, 
vii. 03, 09; in-esistible, i. 251 ; vii. 
220 ; viii. 207 ; x. 55, 79 ; xi. 210 ; of 
ancient lawgivers, vii. 223 ; audi- 
ence the meter of, 07 ; Milton on, 
xii. 158 ; rule of, viii. 34 ; secret of, 
X. 208 ; is translation of truth into 
language intelligible to the hearer, 
viii. 120 ; xi. 210 ; triumphs, vii. 52, 
71 ; in war, viii. 207 ; Webster's, xi. 
209. 

Emanations, i. 191. 

Emancipate, man should, x. 58 ; poet, 
iii. 37 ; religion, xii. 105. 

Emancipation makes union possible, 
xi. 28G. 



Emancipation in the British West 
Indies, Address on, xi. 129-175, 
293. 

Emancipation Proclamation, Ad- 
dress ON, xi. 291-303, 277 note. 

P^mblems, i. 32, 38 ; ii. 98 ; iii. 21 ; iv. 
113, 207 ; vi. 301. See, also, Sym- 
bols. 

Emerson, Edward Bliss, In Memo- 
RiAM, ix. 224 ; Farewell by, 222. 

Phnerson, Rev. Joseph, quoted, x. 
3(;0. 

Emerson, Mary Moody, x. 371-404; 
quoted, ii. 245; x. 388. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, visits to Eng- 
land, V, 7i/; '28 J'; garden, ii. 209; 
ix. 197-200; habits of work, viii. 
273; house, iii. 100; portraits, i. 
frontispiece, ix. frontispiece ; death 
of son, iii. 52 ; ix. 130-138. 

P^merson, Waldo, iii. 52 ; ix. 130-138. 

Emer.son, Rev. William, x. 374 ; xi. 
75, 80, 90. 

Eminence, cost of, ii. 97. 

Empedocles, i. 190. 

Employments, daily, i. 258 ; iii. 241 ; 
viii. 27. See, also. Labor, Occupa- 
tion, Work, Vocation. 

Emulation, in education, x. 151. 

Enchanter, The, ix. 313. 

Euchiuitmcnts, vi. 299 ; x. 185. 

Ends, all momentary, i. 199 ; iii. 233 ; 
iv. 100, 121 ; brought about by pal- 
try means, vii. 154. 

Eiulymion, vi. 101. 

Enemies, to be made now and then, 
vi. 155, 242. 

Energy, conscious and unconscious, 
iii. 30 ; vi. 71 ; vii. 81 ; x. 80, 202, 
204 ; xi. 420. 

England : agriculture, v. 94, 181 ; air, 
xi. 138 ; and Anun-ica, see America ; 
anchored, v. 43 ; anomalies, 93 ; 
army, 05, 80 ; arts, 84, 90 ; civiliza- 
tion, xi. 153 ; climate, v. 41 ; colo- 
nies, 140, 287 ; constitution, vi. 241 ; 
contrasts, v. 5.3 ; decadence, 40, 201 ; 
no place for faint-hearted, 102 ; for- 
eign policy, 285 ; a garden, 37 ; rich 
in gentlemen, iii. 137 ; vii. 189 ; 
nationalities, v. 54, 240; genius 
maritime, 00, 93, 109 ; maintains 
trade, not liberty, xi. 225 ; visits to, 
V. 7#. 

England, Church of, v. 205-220; x. 
112 ; symbol of social order, xi. 375. 

English language, in England, v. 99, 
223. 

English literature, v. 39, 92, 221-246 ; 
xii. 232. See, also. Books, Litera- 
ture, Beading. 



296 



GENERAL INDEX. 



EhrHsIi pooplc, ftbility, v. 75-100, 135, 
15'J; aotivity, 02 ; tiuo nniiuals, 7'-' ; 
vi. 70 ; lu-istocmoy, i. 370 ; v. 1('>0- 
15X) ; X. 4l'>;> ; arithmotioal iniiul, 
103; artiticialnoss, v. 00; iinpris- 
onod in hat-kbono, xi. 410; Munt- 
ness, V. 120 ; body spoaks, 103 ; bru- 
tality, 04 ; contiality, 40 ; cliaraotor, 
iv. 10; V. Ki, 121-130, 205; oook- 
ayno, 140-14S; i-oldnoss, 104; oos- 
inopolitan spirit, 02; couvago, 128, 
143 ; doi'onnn, 105, 110 ; dinners, 
111; dross, 84; dullness, 121 ; of 
the earth, earthy, 127; earth-hun- 
ger, 117 ; eooentricity, 10-1, 140, 

100 ; ei'ononiy, 152 ; edueation, 05, 
191-2(V1; viii. 125; vi. 70; faces, v. 
t57 ; love of faets, 82, 222 ; fair play, 
70, 82; family. 100; no fiuiey, 221 ; 
and Kreui-h, 82. 120. 123, 137 y', 142, 
145, 174, 200; fruit, 03; gaujo-laws, 
73// genius, iii. 210; heroes, 132; 
holiest V, 117; horses, 72; liouses, 
100/, i85; X. 103; hato humbug, v. 
110; humorists, 140; hunting, 71, 
74; indilVorem-o, 103 ; iuHuenee, 30, 
123; insularity, 104; law, v. 00; 
levity, 241 ; liberty-loving, 137; xi. 
138 ; libraries, 203 ; literature, 221- 
240; logical, 80/.- loyal, 170; ma- 
ehinery, 102, U\\ Jf\ 2;>8 ; iniuUi- 
ness, (!8 ; manners, 101-113 ; uiastitV 
nature, 78; materialism, 222, 230; 
melancholy, 124/; xii. 201; money 
questions,' 88; nuitual help, v. 08; 
myriad personalities, 280; names, 
172 ; neatness, 105 ; newspapers, 
134, 247 ; nobility, .wf Aristocracy ; 
obstinacy, 78, 81, 127 ; openness, 
70, 123; patriotism, 140; perma- 
nence, 105, 137, 171 ; plainness, 
111; vi. 140; pluck, 101, 281; po- 
etry, i. 102 ; product of political 
economy, 07 ; poverty, 140; love of 
precedent, 100; iiretcnsion. 111, 
110; probity, v. 117; property, iv. 
140; v. 87," 140, 150; race, 47-74; 
love of reality, 110; religion, 205- 
220 ; reserve of power, 287 ; regard 
for rights, 82 ; xi. U>5 ; routine, 
V.288; sailors, 35, 00 ; Scandinavian 
spirit, 55 ; x. 45 ; science, v. 240 ; 
self-complacency, 103, 141 (f; shop- 
keepers, xi. 153; solidarity, v. 08; 
Bolvency, 151 ; pride in bad [)ublic 
speaking, 125 ; sports, 71 ; steam, 05 ; 
table-talk, 112; temporanumt, 127, 

101 ; thoroughness, 80 ; '' Times," 
247-258 ; no transcendentalists, 214 ; 
truth, 114-123; universities, 101- 
204; utility, 8^?, 238; voice, 110; 



walk, 71 ; wealth, 07, 122, 140, 158, 
104, 107; vi. 115; wit, 121 ; women, 
(;7, 107 ; wrath, 130. 

Kunui, i. 270. 

Kuthusiasnj, i. 238; ii, 20.5, 3tX) ; v. 



110 ; vii. 58 ; not to be measured b\ 
ml 
xi. 



rea uy 
the horso-power of the nnderstiuid- 



nig, viii. 218, 200/; x. 107 
321, 382. 

Envy, ii. 48 ; x. 49. 

Kpaminondas, ii. 153/, 243; iii. 123; 
vi. 145. 

Epic poetry, iii. 32 ; xi. 220. 

Kpilcpsics of wit and spirits, ii. 101. 

Kpitaph, Sir .leidiin Grout's, iii. Ml. 

Epochs of life, ii. 152; of history, xi. 
188. 

Equality, iii. IIVS, 2t"J>. 

Equator of life, iii. 05; x. 180, 

Equilibrium, iv. 1(">4 ; x. 185. 

E(iuivalcnce, ii. 200; viii. 203, 200. 

Eric, vi. 57. 

Euos, ix. 80, 3(X>. 

Errors, vi. 244; xii. 51. See, also, 
lUunders, Mistakes. 

Essence, ii. 110; iv. 02. 

Essenes, i. 322. 

Eternal, in man, vii. 00; x. 09. 

Eternity, i. 247, 273 ; ii. 2.50 ; not du- 
ration, vii. 175; viii. 310; ix. 13, 
288. 

Ether, sulphuric, vi. 142; vii. ITkI. 

EtHU'S, SOVKUKIONTY OF, X. 175-205; 
of the chisel-edge, ii. Ill; the es- 
sence of religion, i. l!2, 121 ; x. 112/,- 
its laws execute themselves, i. 122. 

Kthiops sweet, ix. 42. 

Etiquette, iii. 08, 120, 131 ; of visits, 
viii. 90. (SVtf, also, Decorum, Miui- 
ners. 

Eton, V. 108 f. 

Euler, i. Ot) ; v. 240. 

Euphuism, iii. 171. 

Einipides, q»u>ted, i. 844; ii. 240; iv. 
132; vii. 203; viii. 102; x. 19, 205; 
xii. 213. 

Europe, iv. 53 ; and America, see ini- 
(hr America ; fee for entrance, v. 
Iv>; gardens, i. 347 ; faded garment, 
ii. 2t>4 ; migration to, xii. 25.") ; I'lato 
embodies, IV. 40; vii. 100; receding 
in the imagination, i. 343 ; tape- 
worm of, vi. 140; travel to, ii. 79, 
2(V1; vi. 140. 

El'UOl'K AND EUKOl'KAN liOOKS, xii. 

226. 
Eva, To, ix. 87. 
Evelyn, John, quoted, v. 174 ; vii. 

208. 
Evening knowl(>dg«>, i. 76. 
Events, robe of the soul, ii. 257 ; x. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



297 



185 ; and persons made of tlie same 
fitnlf, vi. A'2,ff, 55, 58, 221, 2:W ; man 
a match for, vii. 77 ; reinforced by, 
IJl , dependent on, 120; what im- 
ports is wliat we tliink of them, 
viii. 278 ; victims of, x. 40. 

Everett, Edward, x. 'AVZ-.'Ai). 

Evil, merely i)rivative, i. 123 ; not un- 
mixed, ii. 2!)0; ^(ood of, iv, 132; vi. 
241; vii. 29, 28'J; made to serve 
Kood, 34. 

Evils, needless, ii. 129 ; end them- 
selves, X. 184, 223. 

Evolution, iii. 173; iv. 78; vi. 20, 
158 ; vii. 23. 

Exaggeration, of evils, i. 2.'>7 ; ii. 120; 
of single aH})ects, 310; iii. 177/, 
223 ; viii. 85 ; from want of skill to 
describe the fact, x, 100, 109. 

Examination-day, x. 270. 

Excellence, lames, vii. IGO ; of man, 
X. 183. 

ExcBLBiou, ix. 240. 

Exclusiveness, excludes itself, ii. 107 ; 
unavoidable, vii. I'J ; viii. 8'J. 

Exercise, i. 230; viii. 205. 

Exile, The, ix. 245, 315. 

Exiles, from nature, viii. 179. 

Existence, the problem of, ii. 304; iv. 
77. 

Expansion, power of, iii. 59 ; iv. 79 ; 
xii. 53. 

p]xp<!dicnts. See Resources. 

Expense, what for? i. 232; ii. 221; 
shouM proceed from character, vi. 
109 y/-; vii. 100/; xi. 415. 

ExPKiiiKNCE, iii. 47-80 ; ix. 228 . 

I. 90; ii. 40, 103, 251, 310; vi. 

78 ; vii. 302, 309 ; xii. 04, 74 ; one's 
own, stained with error, that of 
others, ideal, ii. 103, 187. 

Experiment, ii, 290; iii. 54, 79, 245; 
vii. 175; x. 311. 

Experimenter, Emerson an endless ex- 
perimenter, ii. 290. 

Explanations, just persons refuse to 
explain themselves, iii. 75; xii. 195. 
(SV<', <ilso, Apology. 

Expression, implies a mixture of will, 
ii. 313; iii. 11, 13, 28, 08; tax on, 
vi. 183; viii. 115,200; nature bent 
on, vi. 170; need of, iv. 251; vi. 
284; excess of , x. 108. 

Extremists, the soul of political party, 
xii. 103. 

Eye, vi. 170-174 ; adaptations of, i. 
104; alter all, viii. 302; artist, i. 
21 ; vi. 171 ; bandage, i. 143 ; beauty 
a necessity to, vi. 50 ; ix. 39 ; frame 
cities, 01 ; color of, vi. 15; com- 
passes in, xii. 127 ; coirndiment to 



the race, vii. 284 ; confessions in, ii. 
1.50; vi. 173; conversing with, iv. 
48; vi. 24, 173; vii. 285; courage 
of, ii. 224; vii. 241, 244, 250; Cu- 
j)id's, vi. 274// ix. 92; debt to, x. 
102; dreaded, iii. 132; makes es- 
tates, vi. (K) ; exorbitant, iii. 215; 
farmer's, vi. 171 ; fate in, viii. 303 ; 
fineness of appreciation, vii. 151 ; few 
see flowers, xii. 29 ; man's, set in 
his forehead, i. 91 ; look straight 
forward, iii. 131 ; goodness makes, 
viii. 324 ; govern by, x. 153 ; art the 
gymnastics of, ii. 333 ; sympathy 
with hand, vii. 151 ; x. 28 ; xii. 127 ; 
hate in, xi. 192 ; show health, vi. 
270 ; hero's, 34 ; holden, ii. 139 ; 
holiday in, iii. 145; vi. 173; makes 
the horizon, iii. 77 ; predicts light, 
ii, 40 ; makes what it sees, i. 21, 77 ; 
vi. 295; viii. 209; military, vi. .59, 
173; vii. 78; x. 154; muddy, ii. 
148; vi. 174; two pairs, i. 2.'J0 ; x. 
227 ; passion gives, vii. 285 ; viii. 
15; indicates rank, 295; reverted, 
ii. 121 ; makes the hero or saint, iii. 
77 ; scic.s tlirough the earth, vi. 209; 
vii. 101; s(!eing witlioiit, iii. 270; 
sky full of eyes, ii. 3.'i9 ; study of, 
xii. 11 ; supiilicaling, viii. 80; up- 
side down, i. 50 ; will gives, viii. 
1.39; womanly, 273; of youth, vii. 
280. 
Eyvind, conversion, vi. 197. 

Fable, ix. 71. 

Fables, ii. 104; we shall be, iv. 147; 
vi. 291 ; viii. 27. 

Face, ancestral, v. 53; animal, x. 13; 
xii. 21 ; charm, ii. 170 ; clieerf ul, 
vi. 153; of children, 272; conquer- 
ing one's, 109; English, v. 51, 08; 
expression, vi. 174, 280; xii. 211; 
inviting and warning, viii. 83 ; never 
lies, ii. 148; power of, vii. 78; a 
record, vi. 283 ; a revealer, 170 ; viii. 
84 ; sour, ii. 57 ; subordinates cos- 
tume, viii. 103; synnnetry, vi. 283; 
types, 283. 

Facts, books of, viii. 279 ; no contend- 
ing with, 95 ; xi. 172 ; day full of, 
X. 131 ; cannot disi)0se of other 
people's, iii. 82 ; and dreams, x. 
102 ; eloquence grounded on, vii. 
92/; epiphany, x. 132; faith in, 
iii. 91 ; fugitive, ii. 14, 257 ; ful- 
crum, xii. 54 ; gold and gems in, x. 
1.32 ; the great are the near, vii. 
100; as illustration, viii. 10; im- 
mortalized, ii. 305 ; not the fact but 
llie imi)rcssion of it on your mind 



298 



GENERAL INDEX. 



is important, x. 439; preexist as 
laws, ii. 9, 16, 304; language of, 
312 ; meanings of, iii. 10 ; memory 
holds only so many, xii. 71 ; natural, 
parallel with moral, vii. 217 ; xii. 5 ; 
new, not needed, iii. 22 ; nouns of 
intellect, vi. 288 ; other people's, 
iii. 82 ; true poetry, i. 78 ; public 
must be individualized and pri- 
vate generalized, ii. 25 ; all related, 
viii. 71 ; no sacred and no profane, 
ii. 297 ; statement of, vii. 70, 85, 
93 ; symbolism of, iii. 25 ; vi. 288 ; 
terminus of past, i. 40; xii. 54; 
time, ii. 14 ; two sides, iv. 143 ; 
no ultimate, ii. 284 ; use, 310 ; viii. 
16, 278 ; wishes coined into, vii. 
308, 

Faculties, no inventory of, vi. 55 ; vii. 
308 ; X. 265. 

Failure, inlet to higher advantage, i. 
151 ■ X. 59. 

Fairies, ii. 23 ; vi. 288 ; vii. 168. 

Faith, the course of things teaches, 
ii. 132 ; Americans have little, i. 
237; X. 197; xi. 414; not parasite 
on authority, ii. 276 ; iv. 172 ; dawn 
of a new "day, vi. 206 ; and dog- 
ma, i. 140; flash-of-lightning, 332; 
makes its own forms, 147 ; govern- 
ments stand on, x. 202 ; want of, 
iii. 254; vi. 199; x. 210, 213; in 
moments, ii. 251; poetry is, viii. 
35 ; founded on science, vi. 229 ; ex- 
pressed by skepticism, iv. 173 ; test 
of, i. 135 ; transcendentalism, an 
excess of, 320 ; and works, viii. 261 ; 
x. 404. See, also, Belief, Doubt, 
Skepticism. 

Falkland, Lord, iu. 122 ; iv. 19 ; vii. 
118. 

Fall of man, the discovery that we 
exist, iii. 77. 

Falsehood, with every truth, i. 285; 
betrays itself, ii. 148 ; vii. 41 ; viii. 
154; first show of, x. 209. See, 
also. Lies, Truth. 

Fame, ix. 311 /. 

unaccounted for, iii. 89 ; mean- 
ing of, viii. 296 ; xii. 146. 

Fanaticism, no strong performance 
without a touch of, ii. 134 ; iii. 178 ; 
vii. 273. 

Fancy, vi. 296; vii. 174; viii. 32; x. 
79. See, also. Imagination. 

Faneuil Hall, vi. 248 ; vii. 88 ; xi. 403. 

Faraday, Michael, vui. 10, 289, 294; 
xii. 3. 

Farewell, The Last, ix. 222. 

Farmer, i. 348, 360; vi. 100; xii. 
219 ; timed to nature and not to 



city watches, vii. 134. See, also, 
Farming. 

Farming, vii. 131-148; xii. 219-224; 

sesthetic, i. 47, 225, 229 ; iii. 

240 ; vi. 115 ; not to be imited with 
scholarship, vi. 112. See, also, 
Agriculture. 

Fashion, is virtue gone to seed, iii. 
120, 125, 138, 142, 147, 150 ; vi. 178, 
278 ; vii. 204 ; viii. 164 ; x. 40 ; xi. 
411 ; xii. 235 ; hates pretenders, iii. 
128 ; hates solitary, gloomy people, 
1-36. 

Fate, vi. 7-52 ; ix. 171, 241 ; i. 

285, 288 ; ii. 181, 329 ; iv. 53, 167 ; 
vi. 233, 300 ; name for unpenetrated 
causes, 35; is limitation, 24; free- 
dom a part of, 26, 51 ; vii. 41, 261 ; 
viii. 287 ; ix. 22, 110, 121, 206 ; x. 
15, 75, 198 ; xi. 218, 412 ; xii. 79 ; is 
power that shall be, vi. 39; solu- 
tion, 49 ; subdued to use, 35 ; tragic 
element in life, xii. 262 ; an im- 
mense whim, 263. See Destiny, 
Necessity. 

Faults, we have to thank our faults, 
ii. 113 ; vi. 245 ; x. 54, 189. 

Fear, springs from ignorance, i. 104 ; 
vii. 247 ; from wrong, ii. 107/; xi. 
168 ; a bad counseUor, ii. 224, 244 ; 
iii. 189 ; vii. 244, 250, 260 ; viii. 142, 
163 ; X. 87, 450 ; xi. 197. 

Fellowship, excess of, i. 324 ; iii. 133 ; 
iv. 124. 

Feminine element, x. 121. 

Fence, powers of a, vii. 142. 

Fenris wolf, vi. 25. 

Fermentation, foes to, iii. 240. 

Ferocity in Nature, ii. 235 ; vi. 13 ; x. 
182. 

Feudahsm, i. 173, 355/'; v. 169, 289; 
xi. 198. 

Fiction, insipid compared with fact, 
X. 17, 384. 

Fidelity, the general purpose, iii. 264, 

Figures, f oimdation of speech, i. 34 ; 
iu. 34; viii 16, 

Firdusi, viii. 229. 

Fire, viii. 274. 

First books best, xii. 221. 

First-born of world, ii. 204. 

Fish, man in the sea, xii. 20. 

Fitness, vi. 41, 47, 275; vii. 55. 

Five, nature loves the number, ix. 
44. 

Fixtures, none in nature or man, ii. 
282, 286 ; vi. 277 ; viii, 190. 

Flags, iii. 21 ; xi. 413. 

Flattery, sincerity more agreeable 
than, ii. 274 ; iii. 259 ; x. 27. 

Flaxman, John, iii. 83 ; xi. 395. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



299 



Flea of conventions, x. 353. 

Fletcher, John, quoted, ii. 77, 168. 

Floors, scouring, ii. 156. 

Flowers, calendar, ix. 154 ; celestial, 
iv. 137 ; ciphers, ii. 167 ; of Con- 
cord, xi. 42 ; of coartesy, iii. 134 ; 
cut, vi. 284 ; x. 179 ; as gifts, iii. 
153/; jilt us, 175; of the mind, i. 
203 ; iii. 30 ; of old age, 34 ; of plea- 
sure, ii. 100 ; Shakers, ix. 86 ; of 
sky, iii. 25 ; tint of, from root, vi. 
276. 

Flowing, all things, iii. 37 ; vii. 140 ; 
viii. 190. 

Flute, The, ix. 248 ; heard far- 
ther than cart, vi. 280. 

Fly, as untamable as a hyena, vi. 255 ; 
Musagetes, viii. 270. 

Flying-machines, xii. 250. See, also, 
Balloons. 

Foibles, iii. 217 ; vi. 245. 

Folly, ii. 96 ; remedy against, vi. 255/, 
273 ; xii. 244. 

Folsom, Mrs. Abigail, the flea of con- 
ventions, X. 353. 

Fontenelle, vii. 304 ; quoted, v. 45 ; 
vii. 284 ; x. 109 ; xi. 184. 

Fools, of ideas, vi. 227, 240, 307 ; ac- 
rid, 255 ; X. 143. 

Fops, vi. 91 ; x. G5 ; xi. 273 ; of fields, 
iii. 170. 

Forbearance, ix. 78. 

Force, a practical lie, iii. 205 ; needed 
where men are selfish, 210. 

Forces, Perpetual, via. 201 ; x. 69- 
89, 180, 237. 

■■ the band that ties them together 

is universal good, 86. 

Foreign things, admiration of, ii. 81. 

Foreigners, v. 141, 145. 

Forerunners, ix. 79. 

Forester, ix. 240. 

Forests, i. 15, 162 ; iii. 163 ; vii. 281 ; 
architecture, ii. 24/; old, decom- 
posed for the new, viii- 100 ; 
wait till the wayfarer has passed, ii. 
23, 

Forgetfulness, xii. 73, 79, 269. See, 
also, Memory, Remembrance. 

Form (figure), i. 22 ; ii. 19, 259, 314, 
330; iii. 67; iv. 102; vi. 286, 289; 
vii. 174, 284 ; dependence on soul, 
iii. 9, 15, 18, 25; iv. 110/; vi. 14, 
277 ; vii. 123 ; viii. 22, 153 ; xii. 119, 
121. 

Forms, religious, i. 147 ; iii. 72 ; x. 
86, 105, 196, 209; xi. 25, 27, 220, 
269 ; political, 244, 254. 

Fortune, ii. 87; iii. 74; vi. 43// 
viii. 233, 287 ; x. 20, 24, 27, 46, 48. 
185. 



Fortune of thb Republic, xi. 393- 

425. 

Fortvme-telling, ii. 265 ; vii. 105 ; x, 
16. 

Fountains, iii. 99. 

Fourier and Fourierism, i. 360// iv. 
175, 245 ; x. 235, 326-338, 345 ; xi. 
332. 

Fourth of July, Ode, ix. 173. 

Fox, Charles James, iii. 138, 260 ; viii. 
301 ; xi. 140 ; quoted, vi. 247 ; viii. 
26. 

Fox, George, iii. 180 ; ix. 244 ; x. 112 ; 
quoted, iv. 174 ; xi. 390. 

Fractions, in society we are, vii. 14. 

France, blackboard for England, v. 
141; infiuence, v. 39, 123; poet 
never grew in, ix. 191 ; revolutions, 
V. 174 ; X. 38. 

Frankness, ii. 223. 

Frederick the Great, viii. 300. 

Free, one must be, to free others, vii. 
93. 

Free Religious Association, Re- 
marks AT, xi. 379-384 ; Speech, 385- 
392. 

Free trade, xi. 281, 422. See, also, 
Protection, Tariff, Taxes. 

Freedom, ix. 172 ; necessitated, or part 
of fate, vi. 27, 229 ; American, viii. 
200 ; ix. 179 ; has its own guards, x. 
197 ; virtue essential to, x. 87 ; xi. 
200, 221 ; the perfectness of man, 
xii. 167, 226. See, also. Liberty, 
Slavery. 

French people, must have a career, x. 
50; celerity, iv. 108; language, v. 
116, 142 ; rufiies, 84 ; women, viii. 92. 

Friends, i. 51 ; iii. 109 ; vii. 124 ; viii. 
88 ; do not apologize to, ii. 152 ; mu- 
tual attraction, i. 80 ; ii. 143, 275, 
293 ; iii. 110; viii. 91 ; as books, we 
would have witliin reach, but sel- 
dom use, ii. 204 ; compact between, 
vi. 184 ; do not run to seek, ii. 275 ; 
iii. 110; for conversation, one to 
one, ii. 197 ; give depth, vi. 254 ; 
dreams and fables, ii. 203 ; echo, 
199 ; are not their own highest 
forms, vi. 273 ; vii. 122 ; not to 
adopt their follies, ii. 71 ; easily 
great with, viii. 91 , gulfs between, 
vii. 14 ; hope of heart, iii. Ill ; em- 
body ideas, i. 51 ; x. 62 ; represent 
ideas they do not pass, ii. 287 ; iii. 
59 ; X. 62 ; Janus-faced, ii. 204 ; how 
we know them, 267 ; life is too 
short for, vi. 232, 258 ; limitations, 
ii. 189, 206, 287 ; not made but al- 
lowed, iii. 110 ; make us do what we 
can, vi. 258 ; viii. 91 ; under masks, 



300 



GENERAL INDEX 



vi. 15-1; orimmpiit of houHo, vii. 
1'24; wo cannot part witli, ii. 1-0; 
enlarge our powers, vi. 200; viii. 
273; rdatod, moot, iii. 110; ronioni- 
bored by tlioir roailinp, viii. lSr>; 
nood not sook, ii. 275 ; soloct, 22(5 ; 
give standard of oxoollonoo, i. 51 ; 
trust in, iii. 100; vi. 1S4; truth, ii. 
103, 109, 287; unknown, xii. 253; 
advertise us of our wants, i. 327 ; fro- 
zen wine, ix. 201 ; the wise have no, 
iii. 207. 

Friknoship, ii. 1S1-20G ; ix. 232, 247 ; 
is for aid and conUort, ii. lOO; bo- 
ntitiule, iii. Ill ; too good to bo be- 
lieved, ii. 187 ; a eoniproniise, 101 ; 
endeavors after, vii. 14 ; othies, 125 ; 
foot of, ii. 100; evanescent, 205; 
festival of nature, iii. 100 ; buys 
friendaliip, vi. 120 ; not frost-work, 
ii. 102; is good understanding, vi. 
184; Haliz on, 258; viii. 245; ix. 
247 ; happiness, iii. 100 ; vii. 124 ; 
viii. 88 ; of heroes, vii. 14 ; nature its 
husk and shell, ii. 102 ; love the 
symbol of, iii. 100; vii. 125; man- 
ners a guard to, v. 180 ; all momen- 
tary, iii. 78; iv. 123; vi. 230; not 
named, 250 ; order of nobility, x. 
130; in Oriental poetry, viii. 245; 
knit by persecution, xi. 35; provi- 
sion for, vi. 250 ; pudency In, 250 ; re- 
ality, lUH! ; religion, xi. 384 ; may be 
all on one side, but never unre- 
quited, ii. 200; a friend sliould be 
high enough to slight us, 28() ; strict 
and serious, 1% ; vi. 258 ; needs 
time, 170; training, 250 ; trust, ii. 
102 ; must he very two, before 
there can be very one, 100; virtue 
attracts, iv. 20 ; x. 202 ; the only 
way to have a friend is to he one, ii. 
202. 

Frigga, xi. 338, 

Frivolity, vi. 255 ; viii. 330. 

Frugality, base luid heroic, i. 234. 

Fruits, in. 153/. 

FiiornvK Slave Law, xi. 203-230; 
150. 

Fuller-Ossoll. Margaret, x. 324, 340, 
342 ; xi>. 79. 

Fvdlor, Thomas, quoted, v. 117, 135, 
100, 187, 210; vi. 143; vii. 272; x. 
440 ; xii. 78. 

Fungus, i. 242. 

Furies, i. '2Xi ; iii. 155 ; vi. 107, 150, 
245 ; ix. 243. 

Fury of performance, v. 102 ; vii. 10 ; 
X. 147. 

Fuseli, quoted, v. 232 ; vi. 177. 

Future, pjuty of the, i. 255 ; x. 307 ; 



God has no answer about, ii. 67, 
200/.- iii. 00; vi. 223; x. 15. 
Future life. See Inmiortality. 

Galiani, AbbtS vii. 221. 

Games, the education of, vi. 137. 

Gaudkn, My, ix. 107-200. 

Gaudkner, ix. 230. 

(}ardens, i. 347 ; iii. 107 ; vi. 112/; vii. 
143. See, also, Fanning. 

Garments of dissimulation, ii. 103/. 

Garrets, ii. 215, 310. 

Gas on tlie brain, vi. 140. 

(into of gifts, vi. 10; ix.241. 

(tales, the world all, viii. 133. 

Gautama, quoted, xii. 32. 

Geese, wild, i. 102 ; ix. 143. 

Gem, century makes, i. 205. 

Genelas, cloak, ii. 38; vii. 119. 

Generalizations, ii. 288; iii. 225// iv. 
170 ; V. 229, 232 ; viii. 72, 217. 

Generosity, iii. 141, 15;i ; vii. 111. 

Genius, admirable at distance, iii. 217 ; 
of human race, i. 351 ; or dtvnion, 
iii. 40 ; vi. 273 ; x. 21 ; no lazy angel, 
xii. 40 ; arrogaiu-e, iv. 144 ; ascetic, 
ii. 218 ; needs audience, v. 50 ; is 
bias, viii. 201 ; has no external bio- 
graphy, iv. 45; borrows, viii. 182, 
185 ; call of, ii. 53 ; catholic, 270 ; viii. 
300; no choice to, iv. 182 ; exalts the 
common, vii. 109; xii. 39; courage 
of, vii. 253 ; creates, i. 91 ; viii. 191 ; 
not to 1)0 criticised, iii. 230 ; dearly 
paid for, vi. 13;?; debt to, 234; de- 
fined, ii. 47, 218, 255 ; iii. 27 ; viii. 
191, 218; X. 78; xii. 30 ; despotism 
of, vi. 280 ; favoritism shown to, 
X. 257 ; nuikes fingers, i. 107 ; en- 
emy of genius, 02 ; seeks genius, x. 
144 ; ours should bo more of a 
genius, iii. 50 ; imites two gifts, ii. 
312 ; xii. 42 ; growth of, ii. 258 ; is 
health, x. 40 ; lui infinite hope, iii. 
257 ; a hospitality, i. 231 ; tyrant of 
the hoiu-, ii. 331 ; of humanity, iv. 
3t">/; imperfections, vii. 12; impru- 
dent, ii. 220 ; is intellect construc- 
tive, 303, 312; labor, i. 328; iso- 
lation, vii. 12 ; liberates, iv. 23 ; x. 
55 ; obedience to, the only liber- 
ation, iii. 209; of life, iv. 200; vii. 
14 ; is love, i. 207 ; madness, viii. 
204 ; memory, xii. 72 ; miracle, viii. 
218; moral tone, x. 170; of na- 
tion, iii. 210; obedience to, 209; 
xii, 50 ; is love of perfection, i. 207 ; 
pitli of, in few hours, iii. 51 ; pro- 
gressive, i. 01 ; receptive, iv. 181, 
183 ; from rectitude, vi. 207 ; reli- 
gious, ii. 270; royal right, x. 64, 



GENERAL INDEX. 



301 



258 ; best plain set, vii. 112 ; sickly, 
iv. 274 ; solitude the friend of, vi. 
149 ; solstice, 209 ; of tlie day, spec- 
ulative, i. 2(;8; spontaneous, IfJO ; 
vii. 174; works in sport, vi. 250; 
Stoical jde,nnm^ i. 159 ; surprise, iii. 
70; and talent, i. 159, 207; iii. 10; 
iv 144, 1G3; vi. 220; x. 2G2 /, 270, 
31G ; xii. 52 ; test, its power to 
use facts as symbols, viii. 38; of 
the time, xii. 201 ; ultimates its 
thought in a thinp, viii. 22 ; in 
trade, i. 220 ; iii. 92 ; tragedy of, 
i. 231; universal, 91, 159, 208; ii. 
218, 270 ; iii. 258 ; universities hos- 
tile to, V. 203 ; unlocks chains of 
use, X. 55 ; its value is in its ve- 
racity, iii. 10 ; in virtue, viii. 2G^ ; 
grown wanton, x. 53; implies will, 
xii. 42. 

Gentility, ii. 231 ; iii. 120. 

Gcjitleman, iii. 118 (f, 134, 141 ; v. 
IIG, 199/.- viii. 100; x. 35, 40, 54, 
G3, GG ; xi. 217, 2G2, 419. 

Geography of fame, ii. 242. 

Geology, i. 104 ; ii. 21 ; iii. 81 ; his- 
tory, 173 ; vi. 20, 207 ; vii. 138 ; viii. 
14, 21, 202 ; x. 180, 317 ; xii. 5. 

Geometry, iii. 17G; iv. 82; vi. 210; 
viii. 104. 

George, St., v. 147. 

Germans, earnestness, iv. 2G9 ; gener- 
alizers, v. 232 ; semi-Greeks, 241 ; 
honesty, iv. 207; v. 114; language, 
99; literature, xii. 153, 180; Shake- 
speare's influence, iv. 195 ; xii. 180 ; 
truth, iv. 207. 

Gibbon, Edward, vii. 195 // quoted, i. 
20. 

Gibraltar of pro[)riety, v. 110. 

Gifts, iii. 151-159; ii. 152; iv. 

14. 

Gifts, natural, ii. 81; vi. 10; ix. 32 ; 
x. 85, 202, 200. 

Gingham-mill, vi. 81. 

Giotto, vii. 291. 

Girls, ii. 104, 244; iii. 234; vi. 189. 
See, also, Maid. 

Give All to Love, ix. 84. 

Giving, iii. 15G; iv. 13. See, also. 
Gifts. 

Gladiators, vii. 220. 

Gladstone, quoted, vi. 201. 

Globes, hvunan beings like, iii. 78. 

Gnat grasping the world, xii. 11. 

Go alone, i. 143. 

God, all in all, ii. 292 ; all-fair, i. 30 ; 
attributes, ii. 255; belief in, 132; 
conies without bell, 255 ; bride- 
groom of soul, iv. 124 ; behind cot- 
ton-bales, xi, 334; day, name for, 



vii. IGO ; denial, x. 253 ; in distribu- 
tion, i. 200 , iii. 227 ; x. 203 ; enters 
by private door, ii. 305 ; exists, i. 132 ; 
ii. 132 ; x. 187 ; expelling, i. 287 ; 
father, 33 ; indefinable, GO ; incom- 
ing of, 195 ; iii. 71 ; is, not was, 
i. 142 ; ii. GG ; never jests, i. 53 ; 
pure law, x. 105 ; in man, i. 10, G8, 
72, 122, 130, 18G ; ii. 70, 78, 274 ; viii. 
330 ; X. 134, 230 ; xi. 383 ; in men, i. 
198 ; in matter, GG ; x. 105, 214 ; with- 
out mediator, i. 143; messengers, 
ii. 07 ; X. 100 ; works in moments, vii. 
170 ; nobody against, but God, x. 23 ; 
under obligation, ii. 239; omnipres- 
ence, X. 192 ; painter, vi. 290 ; per- 
manence, ii. 297 ; viii. 317 ; polite- 
ness, iii. G9; poor, vi. 20G ; speaks 
not prose, viii. 17 ; savage idea of, 
vi. 12 ; we see, 30G ; his self-exist- 
ence, ii. 70 ; the servant of all, xi. 
277 ; his speaking, ii. GG ; x. 193 ; 
speaking for, 99 ; substance, iv. 
170 ; enveloping thought, ii. 276 ; 
truth, xi. ](;5; hangs weights on the 
wires, vi. 244 ; needs no wise men, 
iii. 180 ; without is solitude, x. 213 ; 
witness, xi. 388. 

Gods, apparition, x. 102 ; arrive, ix. 
85 ; of our creation, vii. 281 ; crock- 
ery, xi. 228 ; disguised, vii. 108 ; ix. 
119; xii. 21, 39; expressors are, 
viii. 205 ; x. 143, 108 ; game of ques- 
tions, vii. 225; Greek, iii. 40; vi. 
197 ; not hidden from gods, iii. 110 ; 
ideas are, 220 ; iv. 84 ; we make 
our, 10; vi. 19G ; we meet none 
because we harbor none, 220; let 
us sit apart as, iii. 133 ; sell at fair 
price, vi. 107; silent, ii. 319; of 
tradition and rlietoric, 274 ; man- 
kind Vjelieve in two, vi. 35 ; young 
mortal among, 308. 

Goethe, iv. 247-270; ix. 191, 313; xii. 
189-201. 

on architecture, i. 49 ; viii. 177 ; 

on art, v. 2(!0 ; on the beautiful, vi. 
274 ; Carlylo on, v. 200 ; charity, 
iii. 102 ; in.<pired by common things, 
i. Ill; vi. 145; criticised, x. 24; 
delight in, iii. 58 ; on the demoni- 
acal, x. 22 ; on dreams, 15 ; Faust, 
viii. 09// X. 234, 310; want of 
frankness, xii. 192; Helena, ii. 30; 
iii. 2.30 ; imagination, viii. 10 ; on 
immortality, 324, 32G; insight, x. 
281, 289; on intellect, iv. IGG ; x. 
289 ; misjudged, iii. 230 ; Musagetes, 
viii. 2G9 ; on Napoleon, vi. 222 ; per- 
ception of identity, iv. 22 ; on quo- 
tation, viii. 190 ; on riches, vi. 90 ; 



302 



GENERAL INDEX. 



scientific theories, x. 319 ; not spir- 
itual, xii. 41 ; Wilheliu Meister, 
195/, 235; ou wishes of youth, vi. 
49. 

Good, beauty of, vii. 291 ; doctor, vi. 
241 ; dowdiness of, i. 335 ; first, x. 
258; fountain of, i. 125; inunda- 
tion, ii. 29G ; love of, iii. 12 ; posi- 
tive, evil merely privative, i. 123 ; 
reproductive, 28 ; runs in veins, iii. 
248 ; X. 344 ; solid, ii. 136 ; all souls 
led to, ix. 78 ; take what we find, 
iii. G4 ; witliout tax, ii. 102 ; every 
thought and thing reflects, iv. 68; 
visionary, xi. 190. 

Good breeding, see Behavior, Man- 
ners. 

Good Bye, ix. 37/. 

Good nature, iii. 137 ; vii. 220. 

Good will, makes insight, vii. 291 ; 
viii. 324; ix. 202; xii. 57. See 
Kindness. 

Goodness, in badness, viii. 299 ; one- 
ness with beauty, iv. 57 ; xii. 117, 
132; is being, iv. 132, 138; must 
have edge, ii. 53; makes intelli- 
gence, vii. 324 ; all works for, x. 
93 ; not obsolete, vii. 59 : raptures, 
viii. 201 ; sanctity, i. 131 ; above 
self, X. 198 ; smiles, vi. 250 ; stand- 
ard, i. 144 ; strong, 206 ; not sepa- 
rate from truth, 210 ; iv. 126 ; uni- 
versal, vii. 289 ; dies in wishes, vi. 
33. 

Goods, shadow of good, ii. 293; vii. 
112. 

Gossip, of importance as safeguard, 
vi. 212 ; vii. 232 ; viii. 85, 90 ;^iu so- 
cialist communities, x. 343. 

Gothic cathedrals, origin, ii. 17, 24// 
built by love and fear, vii. 56, 58. 

Government, aim, iii. 204; American 
capacity for, xi. 410; bad, remedy 
for, ii. 97 ; by bar-rooms, xi. 402 ; 
clumsy, i. 358 ; its end, culture, iii. 
196 ; dependence on, xi. 198 ; a dic- 
tator, 282 ; rests on faith, x. 202 ; of 
force, iii. 210 ; forms, 198 ; xi. 244 ; 
fossil, i. 358 ; the less the better, iii. 
206 ; X. 120, 142 ; meddling, iii. 205 ; 
methods, 358 ; morality, xi. 288, 
422 ; objects of, i. 359, 363 ; iii. 193 ; 
xi. 278; obstruction, 244; expres- 
sion of state of cultivation, iii. 192 ; 
of politicians, xi. 401 ; likely to fall 
into private hands, i. 364; an im- 
pure theocracy, iii. 204 ; titular, xi. 
403. 

Grab, promptness to, i. 235. 

Grace, ix. 299 ; vi. 2G5, 276, 284 ; 

viii. 79. 



Grafts, xii. 24. 

Grandeur, x. 230. 

Granite, i. 274 ; xii. 111. 

Grasp of minds, xii. 44. 

Gratitude, iii. 157. 

Gravitation, i. 148, 206 ; iii. 269 ; in 
mental phenomena, iv. 106 ; vi. 12, 
209 ; vu. 141, 227 ; viii. 21, 127, 210 ; 
X. 130 ; xi. 223 ; xii. 24. 

Gravity, centre of, ii. 216; vii. 31, 
282 ; X. 189. 

Gray, Thomas, quoted, viii. 58, 272. 

Great Men, Uses of, iv. 7-38. 

helped by adversity, ii. 113 ; vi. 

222 ; viii. 219 ; of great affinities, iv. 
43 ; age mischooses, ii. 204 ; iv. 193 ; 
no boasters, vi. 11 ; have not great 
sons, xii. 110 ; indifferent to cir- 
cumstances, vii. 115 ; composite, iv. 
96 ; not con\'ulsible, ii. 299 ; mutual 
deference, x. 67 ; clear our minds of 
egotism, iv. 29 ; enrich us, viii. 215 ; 
equality in all ages, ii. 84; intro- 
duce us to facts, xii. 182 ; fame 
needs perspective, 145; none with- 
out foible, i. 187 ; iii. 217 ; make 
great things, i. 105 ; know not their 
greatness, ii. 147 ; depend on heart, 
not purse, vii. 112; do not hinder 
us, xii. 82 ; homage to, viii. 205, 
215 ; make land great, ii. 243 ; mark 
of, i. 105 ; from middle classes, vi. 
246 ; misunderstood, ii. 59 ; lead to 
nature, xii. 183 ; are near us, x. 61 ; 
new, ii. 340 ; iii. 106 ; are great oc- 
casions, vii. 84 ; accept their place, 
ii. 49 ; poverty their ornament, ii. 
240 ; vii. 112 ; recall us to princi- 
ples, X. 103 ; absence of pretension, 
171 ; not producers, iv. 91 ; readers, 
viii. 170 ; search for, iv. 9 ; selfish- 
ness, X. 26 ; self-reliant, ii. 55 ; our 
greater selves, i. 106 ;*siucere, viii. 
217 ; sportive, ii. 241 ; see that 
thoughts rule, viii. 217; of our 
times, i. 253 ; treatment, iii. 81 ; 
unique, ii. 82. 

Great tasks not needed, vi. 304. 

Great things done in the spirit of 
greatness, xi. 197. 

Great wits and madness, viii. 264. 

Greatness, viii. 283-303 ; none 

without abandonment, vii. 173 ; only 
comparative, i. 167 ; needs not 
costly culture, 299 ; easy, iv. 54 ; 
good economy, ii. 199 ; enlarges all, 
vi. 184-, appeals to future, ii. 60; 
not from following the great, i. 125 ; 
humanity, viii. 302; humility, xii. 
162 ; live for, viii. 321 ; love follows, 
ii. 143; measured by what it can 



GENERAL INDEX. 



303 



spare, x. 169 ; regards not opinion, 
ii. 24G; and prudence, 293; pur- 
suit of, vi. 148 ; self-respect the 
early f onn of, viii. 280, 291 , 29G ; 
simple, i. IGO ; v. 179 ; is in ten- 
dency, iii. 75 ; achieved unawares, 
vi. 249 ; is the perception that vir- 
tue is enough, ii. 240 ; feels no little 
wants, vi. 148; not greatness, but 
sensibility to see it, is wanting, viii. 
302. 

Greek fire, wit like, viii. 15G. 

Greek period in every man's history, 
ii. 28. 

Greek, power of achievement, x. 2G4 ; 
art has passed away, ii. 282, 339 ; 
civilization in contrast with the 
East, X. 297 ; xi. 181 ; idea of death, 
viii. 309 ; education, iv. 127 ; gen- 
ius, 53; history, ii. 19, 28; v. 11, 
283 ; vii. 192 ; viii. 207 ; instinct, 
vii. 257 ; language and literature, 
iii. 245/; v. 19G, 198, 226; vii. 188; 
manners, ii. 29 ; mythology, 34, 
103 ; x. 106 ; philosophy, 291 ; self- 
centred, viii. 102 ; perfection of 
senses, ii. 28 ; tragedy, 29 ; xi. 422 ; 
xii. 2G2. 

Greenough, Horatio, v. 9 ; quoted, 
vii. 276. 

Grief, makes us idealists, iii. 52/; to 
be lightly stated, vi. 252 ; viii. 233 ; 
xii. 265/ 

Grout, Sir Jenkin, iii. 141. 

Groves, i. 347. 

Growth, i. 193 ; ii. 259, 298 ; viii. 330 ; 
xii. 23. 

Grumblers, vi. 251. 

Guano, races that have guano in their 
destiny, vi. 21. 

Guess, fruitful, i. 70. 

Guests, ii. 184 ; vii. 115 ; viii. 97 ; we 
are guests in nature, x. 187 ; xii. 
268. 

Guinea-trader, iv. 146. 

Guizot, FraiiQois P. G., v. 119; viii. 
124. 

Gulistan. See Saadi. 

Gunning, Elizabeth and Maria, vi. 
282. 

Guns, are not to go in advance of the 
right, xi. 421 . 

Gustavus Adolphus, x. 59. 

Guy, ix. 33^. 

Gyges, ring of, x. 25, 126. 

Gymnastics, of work, iii. 244 ; of play, 
vi. 137. 



Habit, iii. 218. 

Hafiz, quoted, v. 244 ; vi. 33, 43, 59, 



223, 258; viii. 231-248, 273; ix. 
243/, 24G/. 

Half -gods go, ix. 85. 

Halfuess, ii. 107 ; viii. 151. 

Hallam, Henry, v. 233 ; quoted, viii. 
187. 

Hamatreya, ix. 35-37. 

Hampden, John, iv. 19. 

Handel, iii. 222. 

Hands, xii. 143; can execute nothing 
not inspired by character, ii, 341 ; 
and eyes must work together, vii. 
151 ; X. 28, 257 ; xii. 127 ; instru- 
ment of instruments, vii. 151 ; of 
the mind, i. 43 ; right to, earned by 
use, 227 ; Saxons the hands of man- 
kind, V. 77. 

Happiness, does not consist with mis- 
ery of another, vi. 220 ; capacity 
for, endless, 257 ; the highest, to 
behold the beauty of another char- 
acter, i. 324; X. 219; does educa- 
tion increase happiness ? iii. 255 ; 
good delights us, vii. 171, 288 ; Ha- 
fiz on, viii. 232 ; is, to fill the hour, 
iii. 62 ; vii. 173 ; Hume on, 165 ; il- 
lusion, vi. 253 ; not dependent on 
persons, ii. 178 ; search for, illusive, 
vi. 253. 

Happy is the hearing, unhappy the 
speaking man, ii. 319. 

Harmony of man with nature, i, 16 ; 
iii. 19. 

Harness of routine, i. 221. 

Harp, The, ix. 203-207. See, also, 
^olian Harp. 

Harp, constellation, i. 84. 

Harvard College, x. 312 ; xi. 321. 

Harvard Commemoration Speech, xi. 
317-322. 

Haste, vulgar, iii. 134 ; vi. 153, 179. 

Hatred, the doctrine of, to be 
preached, ii. 53 ; ix. 21. 

Have, the coat of, vi. 115. 

Haydn, i. 49. 

Hay-scales, the speediest way of de- 
ciding a vote, vi. 19. 

Heads, adapting conversation to shape 
of, iii. 57 ; expressiveness, vii. 123 ; 
viii. 163. 

Headache, culture ends in, iii. 61. 

Health, beauty is, x. 46 ; dormant in 
vis, 95 ; condition of eloquence, vii. 
69 ; viii. 114 ; of memory, xii. 78 ; 
of writing, viii. 43 ; of success in 
general, i. 23; iii. 19; vi. Gl, 20G, 
249 ; vii. 280, 288 ; viii. 298 ; x. 46 ; 
xii. 78 ; is wholeness, i. 175 ; the mor- 
al its measure, vi. 208 ; x. 179 ; xii. 
57 ; the first muse, vi. 231 ; viii. 265 ; 
patriotic, 18 ; preaches self-corn- 



304 



GENERAL INDEX. 



mand, i. 48 ; sleep its condition, viii. 
2G5 ; should be universal, ii. 218. 

Hearing, a wise, i. 137 ; ii. 319 ; vii. 
283. 

Heart, its arguments, vi. 208 ; ask, 
viii. 21G ; fountain of beauty, vii. 
125, 288 ; lover of absolute good, iii. 
58 ; viii. 217, 221 ; xii. 5G ; not to be 
imprisoned, ii. 284; obey, ix. 84; 
distinction of a royal nature, x. 63 ; 
scholar is world's, i. 102 ; wisdom 
of, vi. 208 ; vii. 127, 288 ; viu. 216, 
327 ; xi. 211. 

Heat, source of power, iii. 172; vii. 
17, 63, 91 ; viii. 126, 261 ; ix. 149 f. 

Heaven, u. 133; iii. 185, 262; vi. 196; 
viii. 327 ; communion of souls, iv. 
124 ; ix. 297 ; is exercise of facul- 
ties, ii. 133 ; xii. 43 ; man makes, i. 
123 ; V. 230 ; a prison, iii. 37 ; Swe- 
denborg's idea, iv. 136 ; viii. 311. 

Heavens, natural, vii. 164. 

Hebrews, antiquity, iv. 129; genius, 
X. 233 ; rehgiou, xii. 96. 

Hecateus, story from, x. 19. 

Hector, x. 19. 

Heimskringla, v. 59, 136 ; viii. 61. 

Helen of Argos, iv. 42. 

Hell, not without extreme satisfac- 
tions, ii. 296 ; iv. 126, 132. 

Helmont, Van, quoted, viii. 323. 

Help, real, iv. 18. 

"Help,"i. 240. 

Henry VII., anecdote, viii. 299. 

Henry VIII., quoted, vi. 77. 

Heraclitus, quoted, i. 204 ; ii. 304 ; vi. 
307 ; viii. 190 ; x. 25, 99, 303 ; xi. 
319. 

Herald's office, iii. 130. 

Herbert, Edward, quoted, vii. 198 ; v. 
71 ; vi. 138. 

Herbert, George, ii. 269 ; viii. 57, 268 ; 
xii. 95 ; quoted, i. 19, 72 ; viii. 87, 
267 ; X. 16. 

Hercules, iii. 90. 

Heredity, v, 49 ; vi. 16, 157, 169 ; viii. 
99 ; X. 37. 

Heei, Ckas, Hodie, ix. 242. 

Hermes, iii. 50. 

HerMione, ix. 89-92. 

Hermits, i. 169 ; vi. 142 ; vii. 219 ; x. 
140 ; xii. 135. 

Herodotus, quoted, viii. 308. 

Heroes, acts speak, ii. 151 ; all may 
be made, vi. 134 ; ancient idea of, 
X. 45 ; bores, iv. 31 ; self-centred, 
vi. 34, 262; vii. 176; x. 261; xi. 
199; English, x. 132; everywhere 
at home, vi. 179; humanity of, i. 
268 ; good-humor, ii. 240 ; need not 
laws, i. 305; hold life lightly, iii. 



260 ; limitations, ii. 236 ; line not 
extinct, iii. 141 ; we make, 77 ; 
masters of events, 97, 101 ; en- 
largements of the common nature, 
i. 107, 160, 305, 327; iv. 20, 35; 
power, vi. 269 ; live on resistance, 
242 ; respect each other, vii. 256 ; 
scholars, x. 260 ; self-sacrifice, vii. 
239 ; of gentle souls, xi. 109, 320 ; 
give strength to state, i. 368 ; rep- 
resented in a transition, ii. 171 ; 
draw viniversal enthusiasm, viii. 23, 
301 ; of the West, xi. 416 ; worship, 
i. 106, 157 ; iv. 20 ; viii. 23. 

Heroism, ii. 229-248 ; ix. 231 ; cu- 
mulative, ii. 12, 60 ; in unison with 
nature, i. 27 ; iv. 29 ; vi. 33 ; vii. 
128; viii. 294; its characteristic is 
persistency, ii. 245 ; generous of its 
dignity, 246 ; never reasons, there- 
fore always right, 236 ; sportive, 
241. 

Hesiod, vii. 160 ; quoted, iii. 156. 

Hibernation, vi. 40. 

Hieroglyphic, i. 10 ; viii. 66. 

Higher law, vi. 201 ; xi. 215. 

Highways of mind, ii. 38 ; iii. 232 ; iv. 
18. 

Hindoos, fables, vi. 25 ; fate, 18 ; on 
immortality, viii. 331 ; maxims, iv. 
132, 255 ; x. 59 ; missionaries to, 
109 ; scriptures, iv. 50 ; vi. 307 ; 
viii. 20 ; xi. 288 ; transmigration, 
iv. 94. See, also, India. 

History, ii. 7-43 ; ancient, is the 

history of to-day, ii. 15 ; vii. 167 ; a 
great anthem, xi. 173 ; is biography, 
ii. 62, 311 ; vii. 197 ; xi. 354 ; catlie- 
dral music, vii. 162 ; none contents 
us, ii. 277 ; every man's, worth 
knowing, vii. 287 ; makes us fatal- 
ists, vi. 33 ; geology effaces, viii. 
202 ; work of ideas, i. 208 ; intrinsic 
identity, 156; ii. 19; iv. 10; none 
find, i. 164 ; less intention than we 
suppose, ii. 128; only moral inter- 
ests us, xi. 133 ; language is, iii. 26 ; 
is the unfolding of law, viii. 212; 
the great moments, ii. 300 ; myth- 
ical names overawe us, 13, 63 ; nat- 
ural, married to human, i. 33; na- 
ture and thought react in, vi. 46; 
two parties in, i. 255; throws our 
action into perspective, 11 ; poetry 
nearer to truth, 73 ; vii. 189 ; truth 
of present, unattainable, xii. 241 ; 
r-ead actively, i. 94; ii. 13; un- 
due regard for reputations, 13, 63 ; 
all sacred, 278 ; speculations of one 
age the history of tlie following, iii. 
254 ; xi. 355 ; its steps are moral 



GENEBAL INDEX. 



305 



generalizations, x. 181 ; a shallow 
tale, ii. 42 ; iii. Ill ; iv. 196 ; high 
tides in, v. 210; its use is to give 
value to the present, vii. 169 ; vic- 
tory over necessities, i. 229 ; war its 
subject, xi. 182, 

Hiving facts, etc., ii. 214; vii. 309, 
316 ; viii. 319. 

Hoar, Samuel, x. 405-418. 

Hobbes, Thomas, quoted, vi. 143 ; xi. 
227. 

Hodson's Life, x. 141. 

Hoe and spade, virtue in, i. 100. 

Hogg, James, viii. 188. 

Holidays, ix. 119; vii. 161// in 

the eye, vi. 173. 

Holiness, confers insight, vi. 207 ; x. 
207 ; service of the common soul, 
xi. 194. 

Holmes, Oliver W., quoted, vii. 28. 

Holy Ghost, ii. 298; iv. 251; ix. 17; 
X 98 

Home,'vi. 254, 259 ; vii. 105, 111, 116, 
127 ; viii. 104 ; x. 128. 

Home, Sir Everard, quoted, iii. 72. 

Homer, authoritative, i. 201 ; Chap- 
man's, vii. 189; we are civil to, 
viii. 68 ; makes all men look like 
giants, ii. 333 ; perfect Greek, ix. 
190 ; humanity in, ii. 270 ; no limits, 
iii. 43 ; Odyssey, vii. 72 ; one omen 
best, X. 19 ; resources, iv. 190 ; will 
be tin pan, viii. 69 ; universality, 
ii. 33; value, vii. 188; quoted, vi. 
197 ; vii. 171 ; vui. 30, 277 ; x. 19, 
45. 

Homoeopathy, iii. 224. 

Honesty, cannot come to loss, ii. 114 ; 
adds value to the state, vi. 102. 

Honor, no ephemera, ii. 60 ; x. 67. 

Hooks and eyes, men made of, vi. 194 ; 
xi. 247. 

Hope puts us in a working mood, i. 
205, 237, 358; ii. 251, 298; iii. 257; 
vi. 252; viii. 217/; ix. 296 ; x. 136. 

Horizon, i. 16, 22 ; iii. 165, 169 ; the 
eye makes, 77 ; vi. 50 ; walled in by, 
253 ; ix. 195, 246 ; x. 107. 

Horoscope, ix. 241 ; ii. 253. 

Horror-mongers, x. 100. 

Horse-block, a Hercules, viii. 18. 

Horsed on an idea, i. 239 ; vii. 52. 

Horsemanship, x. 60. 

Horse-power of understanding, viii. 
218. 

Horses, go best with blinders, v. 88 ; 
xii. 47 ; company, v. 72 ; country, 
146 ; eyes, vi. 171 ; of heavens and 
earth, i. 232 ; ii. 244 ; iii. 25 ; dis- 
putant neighing like, vi. 166 ; vii. 
214. 



Hospitality, i. 231 ; ii. 72, 238 ; iii. 131 ; 
vii. 109, 115 ; to thought, 276 ; to ' 
character, iii. 112, 158 ; iv. 231 ; vi. 
173, 187, 226, 255. 

Hotels, vii. 187 ; viii. 273. 

Hotspur, vi. 121. 

Hours, the ages instruct the hours, ii. 
10 ; iv. 176 ; dance of, i. 191 ; hap- 
piness is to fill, 163 ; iii. 62 ; vii. 
173 ; illusions, 168 ; knots of, 162 ; 
thief-like step, ix. 60 ; trifles eat up 
the hours, ii. 213 ; unlike, 251. 

House, aims, vii. 108, 114 /; archi- 
tect, ii. 81 ; body, type of, iv. 154 ; 
the condition of civilization, vii. 25 ; 
for comfort, 108; x. 335; culture, 
114 /; dogmatic, iv. 153 ; English, 
V. 106, 159, 163 ; French, vii. 229 ; 
friends its ornament, ii. 193 ; vii. 
124 ; location, i. 348 ; we seek a man 
in the house, iii. 131 ; the owner's 
master, 131 ; vii. 158 ; not mea- 
sured by rod and chain, vi. 181 ; not 
a museum, vii. 125; nature tyran- 
nizes over, 45; not for show, vi. 
213 ; vii. 109, 120 ; sanctuary, 127 ; 
of spirit, iv. 121 ; vi. 14, 272 ; ix. 
295 ; property of travellers ; xii. 240 ; 
shows what a man honestly desires, 
vii. 108. 

Household joy, ii. 205, 214 // vii. 
104-128 ; X. 128. 

Housekeeping, i. 231 /; mendicant, 
ii. 75 ; tyrannical, vi. 120 ; a suf- 
ficient accusation that it needs 
wealth, vii. 108. 

Houstonia, iii. 106. 

Howell, James, quoted, xii. 86. 

Huckleberries, white, xii. 29. 

Hudibras, v. 223 ; quoted, viii. 159. 

Hugo, Victor, quoted, viii. 55. 

Human nature symmetrical, ii. 223, 
260 ; xii. 152. 

Humanities, viii. 286. 

Humanity, of the man of genius, viii. 
67, 302 ; religion not to be elevated 
above, xi. 391. 

Humble-Bee, ix. 39-41. 

Humboldt, Alexander von, vii. 304; 
xi. 54, 3.32. 

Hume, David, v. 232 ; vii. 105. 

Humility, i. 122, 155 ; vi. 218, 222 ; 
vii. 168 /; viii. 296 ; x. 95, 121 ; tlie 
avenue to truth, 179, 188, 200 ; xi. 
277, 344 ; xii. 162 /. 

Humor, viii. 152 ; a safeguard, xi. 377. 
See, also, Comic, Wit. 

Hunger, walking hungers, vi. 199 ; sole 
belief, viii. 163, 266 ; x. 58. 

Hunt, Leigh, xii. 231. 

Hunter, John, viii. 13. 



306 



GENERAL INDEX, 



Hunter, iii. 20 ; viii. 139 /. 

Hurry, leave hurry to slaves, iii. 134. 

Hurtful, will sink, vi. 26 ; xi. 223. 

Hurts, some you have cured, vi. 252 ; 
ix. 241. 

Hutchinson, Lucy, vii. 258 ; xi. 339. 

Hydrostatic paradox, iii. 265. 

Hymn at Ordination of Rev. Chand- 
ler RoBBiNS, ix. 192/. 

Hypocrisy begins at the entrance of 
a second person, ii. 194. 

I, use of, xii. 182. 

Ice, skating on thin ice, ii. 222 ; vpalk- 
ing on, viii. 156. 

Ichor, iii. 42 ; vi. 25 ; viii. 73. 

Ideal, truer than the actual, xii. 196 ; 
torments until it finds expression, 
vii. 308 ; fugitive, viii. 322 ; jour- 
neys with us, iii. 72, 76; philos- 
ophy, i. 55 ; practical, xii. 56 ; ever 
present, iii. 76 ; not opposed to real, 
i. 53, 219, 312 ; ii. 342 ; iii. 44 ; rope 
to hold men up out of the slough, 
viii. 74 ; rules, 219 ; service of, ii. 
342 ; state rests on, xi. 331. 

Idealism, i. 52-64 ; Berkeley's, ii. 

289 ; in English literature, v. 227 ; 
of Jesus, ii. 289; not to remain a 
detached object, but to be satisfied 
along with other aims, xii. 253; 
incompatibility with practice, 44; 
does not aiiect the stability of na- 
ture, i. 53, 66; transcendentalism 
is, 311 ; the young American lacks, 
xi. 418 ; dies out of youth, i. 326. 

Idealist, Bacon an, v. 227 ; claims, iv. 
145 ; complaint against, viii. 71 ; x. 
266; duties of, viii. 218; grief 
makes, iii. 52 ; and materialists, i. 
311, 314 ; nature idealist, viii. 30 ; in 
politics, xi. 331 ; the pi-actical men 
are, x. 256; shrinks in practical 
life, ii. 243; scholars, x. 243; 
tyranny of, vi. 93 ; in society, viii. 
153. 

Ideas, all advancement is by, xi. 413 ; 
illustration of the benefit of, iv. 25 ; 
building on, iii. 192 ; cannon aimed 
by, xi. 398 ; make their own chan- 
nels, iv. 13 ; divine natures, i. 61 ; 
iv. 84 ; no better than dreams, xi. 
289 ; generate enthusiasm, x. 113 ; 
are epochs, xi. 188 ; are essences, iii. 
220 ; exorbitant, i. 271 ; are the 
truth of facts, 78; fool of, 200; 
vi. 227 ; x. 143 ; heaven of, ii. 306 ; 
horsed on, i. 239; hostility of, 
V. 241 ; impregnable, vii. 33 ; indi- 
cators of, iv. 21 ; incarnate them- 
selves in majorities, vi. 19 ; and ma- 



terials, xi. 191 ; might of, i. 208 /; 
X. 83 ; rule the mind, as the moon 
rules the tides, ii. 304 ; x. 131 ; new, 
i. 219 ; men of one, xii. 466 ; not to 
be taken from others, xi. 205 ; xii. 
28 ; Plato's definition, iv. 83 ; none 
premature, ii. 139 ; we are prisoners 
of, 306 ; alone save races, xi. 172 ; 
religion the practice of, i. 62 ; are 
thought subversive, iv. 253 ; their 
superiority, 145 ; their legitimate 
sway, i. 208, 219; ii. 283; iii. 197; 
viii. 262 ; xi. 289 ; men and things, 
x. 89, 258 ; trust in, xi. 190 ; iii. 203 ; 
iv. 50. 

Identity, of man, i. 84, 93 ; perception 
of, ii. 317; iii. 175/, 186; iv. 50, 
103/, 113, 144; v. 226; vi. 297, 
307 ; vii. 41 ; viii. 13 ; x. 14. 

Idiots, xii. 45. 

Idleness, deferring of hope the reason 
of, iii. 224 ; ix. 215. 

Idolatry of Europe, ii. 79 ; of the old, 
120 ; of friends, 287 ; of heroes and 
saints, iii. 77; iv. 23; x. 116; of 
opinions, iii. 97. 

IF, on temple at Delphi, viii. 176. 

Illumination, divine, i. 217 ; iii. 72. 

Illusions, vi. 291-308 ; pain and 

danger illusory, vii. 250 ; duration, 
170 ; life made of, iii. 53, 83 ; iv. 170 ; 
vii. 1, 65, 170, 298 ; viii. 301 ; ix. 
286 ; X. 88, 109. 

Imagery, i. 36 ; vii. 89 ; viii. 18, 22, 
24/. 

Imagination, Poetry and, viii. 7-75; 

in all men, iii. 33 ; vi. 295 ; x. 

79 ; beauty the creature of, vi. 287 ; 
is the mind being what it sees, i. 
56 ; iii. 30 ; vii. 202-207 ; fear comes 
from, 250 ; genius is power to affect 
the imagination, x. 54 ; homage to, 
198 ; nature speaks only in soli- 
tude, vi. 149 ; the period of, x. 141 ; 
allied to all intellectual power, iv. 
22 ; precursor of reason, vii. 204 ; x. 
233 /; debt of science to, viii. 16 ; 
and senses cannot be gratified at the 
same time, vi. 287 ; its work, x. 79. 
See Fancy, Poet, Poetry. 

Imbecility, key to the ages, i. 268; iv. 
173, 234 ; vi. 56 ; viii. 235. 

Imitation, i. 143, 167 ; ii. 48, 81 ; viii. 
179 ; xi. 416. 

Immensity, viii. 318. 

Immigration, i. 350; vi. 21, 108, 261 ; 
vii. 155 ; xi. 399. 

Immortality, viii. 4, 305-333 ; 

arguments for, ii. 309 ; iii. 35, 187 ; 
vi. 227 /, 279 ; vii. 316 ; belief in, ii. 
187 ; iv. 173 ; vi. 227 ; perception of, 



GENEBAL INDEX. 



307 



owed to books, vii. 182 ; Carlyle on, 
V. 21 ; gives lustre to death, iii. 187 ; 
history gives no light on, ii. 42 ; in- 
convenience of, vii. 302 ; not length 
of life, but depth of Ufe, viii. 329 ; 
Plutarch, x. 295 ; question not high- 
est, vi. 228 ; not to be separately 
taught, ii. 266; who is immortal, 
248 ; vi. 220, 228 ; viii. 325, 330. 

Imperial guard of virtue, i. 146. 

Impressions, what impresses me ought 
to impress me, ii. 48, 137, 311 ; vi. 
47; vii. 279, 283/; xii. 39. 

Improvisators, vii. 71 ; viii. 227. 

Impulse, vi. 6-5. 

In Memokiam, ix. 224-227. 

Inaction, i. 95, 264. 

Incendiary opinions, ii. 247. 

Incognito, advantages of, vi. 145. 

Independence, i. 145, 155 ; iii. 133. 

India, moral sentiment, i. 126 . See, 
also, Hindoos. 

Indian summer, iii. 163. 

Indians, American, characteristics, xi. 
54 ; in church, 184 ; and civilization, 
vii. 24 ; xi. 53 ; conversion, viii. 
158; xi. 56 #; cruelty, 186; Henry 
on, viii. 193 ; heroism, xi. 62 ; names, 
i. 287 ; rule for planting, x. 417 ; 
ruins of mankind, xi. 54 ; lost ten 
tribes, 54 ; trail, vii. 25 ; wrongs, 
xi. 65 ; xii. 259. See, also, under 
Concord. 

Indifferency, all things preach, ii. 80; 
iii. 62 ; iv. 147 ; vi. 199. 

Indifferentism, as bad as superstition, 
vi. 199. 

Indirection, all goes by, vii. 173. 

Individual, a momentary arrest of at- 
oms or powers, xii. 25. 

Individualism, i. 25, 87, 112, 114, 142, 
195 ; ii. 137 ; iii. 95, 206, 225, 229, 
234, 254 ; iv. 32, 76 ; viii. 191, 286 ; 
X. 95, 118, 136, 308 ; xi. 416 ; xii. 25, 
46, 49 ; distemper of, vi. 128, 130, 
133 ; vii. 15, 52 ; English, v. 291 ; 
stress not to be laid on, i. 157, 160, 
200. 

Indolence, iii. 50. 

Industry, attractive, x. 329, 331. 

Inequalities of condition, ii. 118; x. 
37. 

Inertia, the only disease, ii. 297. 

Inevitable, the, i. 285. 

Infancy, ii. 50, 298, 305 ; vii. 101 ff, 
243 ; the perpetual Messiah, i. 74. 

Infidelity, iv. 173 ; vi. 201. 

Infinite, the, i. 186, 190, 282 ; ii. 126, 
266 ; iv. 106 ; viii. 316 ; the feeling 
of, xii. 184/". 

Infirm people, i. 234 ; vi. 148. 



Influence, i. 33, 145, 200, 206 ; iii. 76, 
94, 197 ; vi. 55 ; vii. 80, 240 ; x. 101, 
129. 

Influenza of egotism, vi. 128. 

Innocence, an electuary, x. 204. 

Innovation, i. 271, 289, 307 ; v. 109. 

Insanity, i. 191 ; iii. 112, 179, 223, 226; 
iv. 30 ; vi. 132 ; xii. 46. 

Inscription for a Well, ix. 315. 

Insight, iii. 30 ; vi. 30 ; viii. 22 ; good- 
will makes, vi. 207 ; vii. 291 ; xii. 
57, 196. 

Insolvency of mankind, viii. 321. 

Inspiration, viii. 253-281 ; xii. 

32 ; advance, x. 224 ; age of, not 
past, i. 142 ; x. 117 ; counterfeit, 
iii. 32 ; every man a receiver of, 65, 
218, 271 ; ii. 318 ; iii. 258 ; x. 142, 
209 ; xii. 32, 55 ; nothing great done 
without, viii. 257 ; doctrine lost, i. 
127 ; English idea, v. 212 ; no mat- 
ter how got, viii. 257 ; in poetry the 
rule is inspiration or silence, 73; 
makes solitude, i. 169. 

Instinct, i. 114, 319 ; ii. 64, 307 ; viii. 
216 ; x. 191 , xii. 31-34. 

Institutions, shadows of men, ii. 62, 
152 ; iii. 100, 248. 

Insulation, ii. 204 ; vii. 15. 

Insults, iii. 77, 105 ; vi. 223, 247. 

Insurance, of a just employment, vi. 
221. 

Insurrections, great men serve us as, 
x. 103. 

Integrity, i, 265; ii. 52, 222; vi. 90, 
181, 263 ; viii. 329. 

Intellect, ii. 301-323. 

Natural History of, xii. 1-59 ; 

ii. 303 ; increases with our affec- 
tion, 184 ; viii. 221 ; is void of affec- 
tion, i. 28 ; ii. 304 ; xii. 41 ; men 
ashamed of, x. 252 ; beatitude of, 251; 
beauty, the object of, i. 28 ; makes 
its own boundaries, xii. 15 ; charac- 
ter excites, iii. 103 ; confidence in, 
i. 154 ; a consoler, xii. 271 ; and 
creeds, ii. 78 ; no crime to, iii. 80 ; 
iv. 244 ; viii. 297 ; disparaged, iii. 
85 ; duties, i. 178 ; is thought to kill 
earnestness, iv. 160 ; takes the earth 
into training, vii. 155 ; conversion 
into energy, x. 264 ; cannot be in 
excess, i. 268 ; annuls fate, vi. 27 ; 
xi. 175 ; a fire, vii. 141 ; growth a 
larger reception, i. 160 ; office of 
the age to reconcile intellect with 
holiness, 210; ii. 259; iv. 92, 167; 
vi. 208 ; viii. 286, 300 ; x. 97, 179 ; 
xi. 327 ; xii. 56, 272 ; its grasp, 44 ; 
counterpart of natural laws, i. 60 ; 
viii. 211 ; x. 177 ; xii. 5 ; in man- 



308 



GENERAL INDEX. 



ners, iii. 134 ; imagination its mea- 
sure, 37 ; miraculous, xi. 172 ; pri- 
mary to nature, i. 188 ; iv, G3 ; the 
true nectar, iii. 31 ; essence of age, 
vii. 299 ; power, vi. 31 ; is recep- 
tion, i. 160 ; ii. 252 ; iii. 31 ; x. 289 ; 
royal proclamation, xi. 421 ; schol- 
ars represent, viii. 286 ; selfish, iii. 
137; its self-reliance, ii. 320; all 
things serve, viii. 94 ; talisman, xi. 
172 ; surrendered to truth, viii. 218 ; 
uses and not used, 75. 

Intelligence, good-will makes, viii. 
324 ; ix. 202. 

Intemperance, gifts cannot raise, ii. 
219. 

Intenerate, ii. 96. 

Intention, i. 192 ; ii. 128. 

Intercourse, international, vii. 155 ; 
social, 215. 

Interference, iii. 205 ; x. 189. 

Interpretation, i. 40. 

Interruptions, viii. 273. 

Intoxication as substitute for intel- 
lect, iii. 31. 

Introductions, iii. 130 ; v. 104. 

Introversion, i. 109 ; iv. 96, 125 ; xii. 
11. 

Intrusion, ii. 200, 202 ; iii. 134. 

Intuition, i. 126, 321 ; ii. 64 ; iv. 93. 

Invention, i. 184 ; vi. 22, 47 ; vii. 151- 
159, 272 ; viii. 136, 171 ; x. 173. 

Inventors, i, 94, 143 ; iv. 14 ; vii. 107 ; 
viii. 133,194; x. 43 ; xii. 72. 

Investment, vi. 122 ; xii. 64. 

Invisible, i. 190 ; vi. 196 ; viii. 23. 

Inward light, viii. 293 ; x. 98. 

lole, iii. 90. 

Irish, eloquence, vii. 70; "help,"vi. 
78 ; members of Parliament, v. 119. 

Iron, cinder in, vi. 261 ; metre of 
civilization, x. 173. 

Iron lids of reason, vii. 53 ; viii. 183. 

Is, the fatal, viii. 34. 

Isocrates, quoted, vii. 65, 97, 218. 

Isolation, of personality, ii. 71 ; iii. 
32, 69, 134 ; viii. 81 ; xii. 241 ; of 
genius, vi. 114 ; vii. 12. 

Italicize, never, x. 164. 

Italo-mania, ii. 26, 79; vi. 252; vii. 
252. 

Italy, caution in speech, viii. 200 ; tal- 
ent, X. 264. 

Iteration, in nature, iv. 104, 113 ; in 
poetry, viii. 50, 55, 65. 

Jackson, Andrew, vi. 64 ; xi. 404. 
Jackson, Charles T., vi. 142. 
Jacob and Laban, iii. 194. 
Jacobi quoted, i. 318 ; vi. 183. 
Jacobins, iv. 31 ; xi. 198. 



Jamblichus, vii. 193 // quoted, iii. 
18 ; V. 173. 

James, Henry, quoted, x. 121. 

Jane Eyre, vii. 205. 

Janus-faced friend, ii. 204. 

Jardin des Plantes, xii. 20. 

Jars, qualities potted in, vi. 15. 

Jason, V. 268. 

Jawing, vii. 76. 

Jefferson, Thomas, vi. 64, 154 ; x. 54. 

Jeffrey, Francis, x. 167. 

Jelaleddin, verses, ix. 267. 

Jerusalem, centre of earth, v. 43. 

Jests, viii. 157. See, also, Jokes. 

Jesus Christ, acts from thought, i. 
316 ; answers, ii. 266 ; vii. 223 ; his 
attraction, ii. 319 ; x. 219 ; has been 
given a position of autliority, i. 132 ; 
xi. 22 ; on problem of life, iv. 92 ; 
character, iii. Ill ; x. 219 ; claims, 
X. 115 ; true commemoration, xi. 
24 ; not dead, iii. 232 ; described as 
a demigod, i. 130 ; ii. 62 ; divinity, 
i. 128 ; X. 99 ; xi. 391 ; doctrine, 
viii. 329 ; era in history, x. 219 ; 
exaggeration of his personality, iii. 
217 ; face, ii. 337 ; as God, i. 128 ; 
xi. 383 ; heavens and earth sympa- 
thize with, i. 27 ; a hero, x. 219 ; 
his history falsified, ii. 31 ; x. 219 ; 
his idealism, ii. 289 ; does not 
preach immortality, viii. 330; his 
life degraded by insulation, i. 132 ; 
the blessed Jew, ix. 243 ; a lover of 
mankind, i. 242 ; knew worth of 
man, 129 ; mediator, xi. 23 ; mira.- 
cles, i. 76, 128, 131; x. 192; xi. 
25, 390 ; misunderstood, ii. 34, 
58 ; mystic offices, vi. 200 ; name 
ploughed into history, i. 126 ; drew 
upon nature, 46 ; the emphasis put 
upon his personality, 129 ; ii. 119, 
276 ; vi. 200 ; xi. 392 ; confoimded 
with the possibility of man, ii. 62 ; 
iii. 228; iv. 31 ; prayer, ii. 276; xii. 
213 ; Prometheus, ii. 34 ; prophet, 
i. 127 ; his republic, x. 332 ; quoted 
to justify slavery, xi. 220 ; symbol- 
ism, 15 ; sympathy with, 390 ; his 
teaching perennial, ii. 257 ; serves 
by holy thoughts, i. 131 ; not unique, 
vii. 289 ; xi. 392 ; speaks from 
within, ii. 269 ; names the world, i. 
131. See, also. Lord's Supper. 

Jews, cultus declining, xi. 333 ; re- 
ligion, xi. 391 ; xii. 96 ; scriptures, 
see Bible ; self-centred, viii. 102 ; 
sufferance, vi. 39. 

John, the Baptist, x. 325 ; xi. 271. 

Johnson, Edward, quoted, xi. 36/. 

Johnson, Dr. Samuel, i. Ill ; v. 81, 



GENERAL INDEX. 



309 



233 ; vii. 223 ; viii. 287 ; x. 240, 450 ; 

xii. 203 ; quoted, ii. 215 ; v. 188 ; 

vi. 77, 250; vii. 27, 18G/; viii. 122; 

xii. 77, 150, 104. 
Jokes, ii. 212 ; viii. 96, 151, 153/, 158, 

1G4#. 
Jonathanization of John Bull, xii. 

101. 
Jousoii, Ben, iv. 193 // v. 182, 22G ; 

vii. 198, 230, 234 ; viii. 39, 57, 279 ; 

xii. 205, 230; quoted, iii. 115; v. 

231 ; vi. 155, 285 ; viii. 41, 47, 55, 

239 ; X. 283 ; xi. 403, 407 ; xii. 196. 
Journal, keeping, see Diaries. 
Journalism, see Newspapers. 
Journey, rule for, v. 34. 
Jove, iii. 12 ; and PlKebus, vii. 176 ; is 

in his reserves, viii. 206. See, also, 

Jupiter. 
Joy, i. 243; vi. 250, 295. 
Judges, v. 122 ; vi. 76 ; in slavery 

times, xi. 255. 
Judging, iv. 62. 
Judgment, day of, every day, ii. 92, 

149, 257 ; iii. 97 ; iv. 133 ; viii. 227 ; 

X. 317. 
July, in heart, ix. 240 ; x. 418 ; night, 

viii. 213. 
June, Epicurean of, ix. 40 ; flowers, 

47 ; glories, 87 ; rose, 208 ; walked 

as, 290. 
Junius, viii. 188. 
Jupiter, ii. 103 ; iii. 106, 150 ; vii. 100. 

See, also, Jove. 
Jury, not deceived by lawyers, ii. 148. 
Justice, i. 122; iii. 63, 95; ix. 110; x. 

87, 94, 96, 184 ; xi. 71, 105, 154, 224, 

288, 424. 

Kansas Affairs, Speech on, xi. 239- 

248 ; xi. 107. 

Kant, Iinmanuel, i. 321 ; ii. 269, 320/; 

vii. 30 ; x. 94, 310. 
Keats, John, viii. 57 ; xii. 186 ; quoted, 

iii. 142 ; x. 179. 
Kemble, John, vi. 78. 
Kempis, Tliomas a, vii. 208 ; xii. 94 /. 
Kepler, Johann, quoted, x. 257. 
Kertch, governor of, v. 203. 
Key-note of nature, iv. 135. 
Key, the key to every man is his 

thought, ii. 283. 
Kildare, Earl of, viii. 299. 
Kind, every one after his, i. 322. 
Kinde, iv. 168 ; vii. 164. 
Kindness, i. 239 ff; ii. 183, 225 ; xi. 

193. 
King's College Chapel, vi. 40. 
King, a working, i. 364 ; ii. 63 ; vii. 

65; viii. 199, 207/; x. 44; xi. 198; 

tired of kings, ix. 174. 



Kitchen clock, more convenient than 
sidereal time, v. 50. 

Knapsack of custom, iii. 164. 

Knaves, carry forward the just cause, 
iv. 176. 

Knights, true, x. 57, 59. 

Knower, the, iii. 12. 

Knowing, contented with, iii. 85 ; the 
step from knowing to doing, vi. 74 ; 
antidote to fear, vii. 247; measure 
of man, xii. 9 ; the world, ii. 210 : 
vi. 141. 

Knowledge, a canine appetite for, iii. 
256 ; buckets of, vi. 257 ; of char- 
acter, ii. 267 ; child's absorption of, 
vii. 103 ; communication of, 215 ; 
viii. 215 ; x. 147 ; diffusion of, tlie 
measure of culture, vii. 28; fatal 
to earnestness, iv. 166; the en- 
courager, vii. 248; evening, i, 76; 
xii. 67 ; growth unconscions, ii. 307 ; 
iv. 152 ; vii. 103 ; immortal, viii. 
323; cannot be hid, xi, 389; loved 
for itself, vii. 277 ; morning, i. H'> ; 
xii. 67 ; is power, vii. 303 ; xii. 57 ; 
runs to the man, viii. 255 ; a sea, vi. 
257 ; not to be secondary, 1. 143 ; 
the hope to get knowledge by short 
cuts, vii. 273 ; its value depends on 
skill to use it, xii. 64; is amassed 
thought of many, viii. 190 ; use tlie 
condition of, i. 211 ; vii. 248 ; xii. 
30 ; wealth the sign of, ii. 110 ; yes- 
terday's, xii. 64. 

Knox, Robert, on races, v. 47 ; vi. 21. 

Koran, quoted, iv. 92, 207, 215; vii. 
66 ; viii. 96. 

Kosmos, i. 21; vii. 165; xii. 116. 

Kossuth, Address to, xi. 357 ; 

vi. 202; X. 311. 

Krishna, quoted, iv. 50, 164. 

Labor, alternation of, is rest, viii. 145 ; 
attractive and associated, iv. 151 ; 
benefits, iii. 244 ; at Brook Farm, 
X. 114, 344 ; brute, vi. 85 ; cheapest 
is dearest, ii. 110 ; Nature's coin, 
118, 214 ; contempt for, vi. 91 ; cul- 
tivated, 98 ; viii. 208 ; the interests 
of dead and living, iv. 214; digni- 
fied, i. 100, 173; ii. 135; xi. 278; 
division of, i. 224; iv. 53; v. 162; 
vii. 26, 113; duty of all, viii. 294; 
xi. 423 ; emblematic, viii. 294 ; God's 
education in the laws of the world, 
i. 229; iii. 220; vi. 106; genius is 
power of, i. 328 ; government is for 
its protection, xi. 278 ; needful gym- 
nastics, i. 230; iii. 244; x. 233; 
habits, xii. 259; importance, xi. 
423; key to world's treasures, xii. 



310 



GENERAL INDEX. 



105 ; man coins himself into, x. 76 ; 
xi. 278; power of, xii. 105; the 
scholar's, viii. 294; slave-holder's 
view of, xi. 277 ; manual labor an- 
tagonistic to thought, i. 230. 
Laborer, not to be sacrificed to results 

of labor, i. 184. 
Lamb, Charles, quoted, viii. 189. 
Land, its sanative influences, i. 345 ; 
appetite for, vii. 101 ; English te- 
nacity, V. 37-46, 50, 230; owner- 
ship, vi. 113; vii. 133, 135; ix. 36. 
Landor, Walter Savage, criticism, 

xii. 201-212 ; visit to, v. 10-13 ; 

on behavior, vi. 179 ; merit, xii. 
188 ; on Wordswortli, v. 243, 281 ; 
quoted, i. 330 ; ii. 171 ; vii. 124 ; xii. 
210. 
Landscape, armory of powers, ix. 125 ; 
beauty, ii. 327 ; iii. 1G9 ; benefit, ix. 
214; breath, iv. 137; compensation, 
vii. 280 ; cow's view of, viii. 30 ; 
deceptive, iii. 171, 184 ; difference 
of, in the observer, 170 ; in dreams, 
x. 11 ; the eye makes, i. 21 ; iii. 170 ; 
xi. 367 ; face of God, i. 69 ; horizon 
in, iii. 169 ; man, a compacter land- 
scape, ii. 328 ; reflects our moods, i. 
17, 204 ; owned by no one, 14, 71 ; 
iii. 23 ; trees, the hospitality of, i. 
250 ; vanity, 24 ; needs water, viii. 
48. 
Landscape gardening, i. 349. 

Language, i. 31-41 ; of angels, 

ii. 323 ; the building of, i. 32 ; viii. 
15, 135, 189 /; demigod, vii. 47 ; of 
eloquence, viii. 121 ; fossil poetry, 
iii. 26; history in, 26; imagery, 
i. 36 ; viii. 22 ; a monument, iii. 220 ; 
nature supplies, i. 35 ; vi. 288 ; viii. 
15 ; played with, i. 171 ; viii. 161 ; 
straining of, x. 160 ; of street, viii. 
121; xii. 24, 72, 150, 157; finest 
tool, vii. 156; is use of things as 
symbols, i. 31 ; iii. 37 ; xii. 5 ; ve- 
racity, iii. 220 ; always wise, x. 125. 
Lannes, Marshal, vi. 134. 
Lantern of the mind, ii. 308, 310. 
Laocoon, vii. 53. 
Large interests generate nobility of 

thouglit, X. 65. 
Lars and Lemurs, v. 18; x. 8. 
Las Casas, quoted, ii. 85 ; iv. 226. 
Last Farewell, ix. 222/. 
Last judgment. See Judgment, day 

of. M. Angelo's, xii. 129. 

Latin poetry, i. 162 ; iii. 245// iv. 269 ; 

V. 198, 224, 226. 
Laughter, vi. 175 ; viii. 86, 96, 151 /, 

156/, 166. 
Lavater, x. 318. 



Law, the higher, xi. 215. 
Laws, above, are sisters to those be- 
low, iv. 81 ; viii. 211 ; alive and 
beautiful, iii. 268 ; begirt with, ii. 
129 ; beneficent necessity, iii. 203 ; 
our consolers, vi. 230 ; Hindoo defi- 
nition, 211 ; divine, i. 121 ; iii. 268 ; 
English, V. 159 ; must be written 
on ethical principles, x. 112 ; facts 
preexist as, ii. 9, 16 ; the world a 
fagot of, X. 86 ; growth, iv. 191 ; 
make no difference to the hero, i. 
305/; history the unfolding of, viii. 
212 ; built on ideas, iii. 192 ; ideal, 
viii. 35 ; identity, 13 ; immoral are 
void, xi. 165, 214 ; an extension of 
man, i. 358; ii. 11, 99 ; iii. 191,193, 
203 ; viii. 44 ; of matter and of 
mind correspond, vi. 209 /; viii. 13, 
21, 211, 220 ; are memoranda, iii. 
192 ; mind carries, viii. 212 ; of na- 
ture, ii. 215, 222, 234 ; iii. 174 ; vi. 
104; vii. 127; viii. 209; civil, not 
to be obeyed too well, iii. 199, 265 ; 
vi. 305 ; viii. 45 ; x. 189 ; omnipres- 
ent, vi. 30, 104 ; to one's self, ii. 
74 ; perception of, is religion, vii. 
128 ; viii. 325 ; x. 188 ; permanence, 
i. 53 ; X. 188 ; the dream of poets, 
vii. 218 ; viii. 36 ; of repression, 
vi. 23 ; not to be too much rev- 
erenced, iii. 205 ; none sacred but 
that of our nature, ii. 52 ; their 
Btatement is common-sense, vii. 87 ; 
universal, i. 122, 124 ; ii. 221 ; iii. 
96 ; vi. 51, 84 ; ix. 73 ; useless, xi. 
221 ; various readingvS, 213 ; of the 
soul, self-enforced, i. 122, 139 ; and 
virtue, vi. 226 ; world saturated 
with, iv. 174. 

Laws, Spiritual, ii. 123-157. 

Lawgivers, vii. 223. 

Layard, Austen H., quoted, vi. 252 ; 
viii. 227. 

Leaders, ii. 330 ; iv. 24 ; vi. 285 ; vii. 
240,245; x. 51, 101. 

Learning, i. 211 ; ii. 139; x. 244. 

Leasts, nature in, iv. 102, 110; vii. 
168. 

Leave all, receive more, ii. 320. 

Legion of Honor, iii. 221 ; x. 61. 

Leibnitz, quoted, vii. 152 ; x. 132. 

Lenses, we are, iii. 54, 77 ; iv. 11. 

Leroux, Paul, vi. 201. 

Letters, ix. 188; ii. 184, 201, 

222 ; vii. 26 ; inspiration in the 
writing of, viii. 266 ; ix. 290. 

Letters, men of letters wary, vii. 235. 

Level, difference of, needed for com- 
munication, iv. 35. 

Liberalism. See under Rehgion. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



311 



Liberty, i. 357 ; ili. 203 ; vi. 10, 27 ; 
viii. 219, 235 ; index of general pro- 
Rross, xi. 21(!, 219, 222 J/\ 229, 29:5, 
301 ; wild liberty breeds iron con- 
science, vi. G5. 

Lichens, ii. 42 ; vi. 83. 

Lies, i. 123, 318; ii. 72, 223; iii. 2G4 ; 
iv. 82, 87 ; x. 1G7 ; xi. 192. 

Life, Fbaoments on, ix. 287-298 ; 

amount, vi. 02 ; not to bo anato- 
mized, vii. 172 ; is the aa},'le of vis- 
ion, xii. 9 ; art of, will not be ex- 
posed, iii. 70 ; a bias to some pur- 
suit the high prize of, vi. 253 ; not 
to beclieap, 235 ; conditions, ii. 102 ; 
is growing costly, xi. 415 ; crisis 
of, vii. 120 ; not critical but sturdy, 
ii. 22() ; ix. 31 ; cumulative, vii. 
302, 307 ; not long but deep is 
what we want, i. 330 ; iii. 02 ; vii. 
170 ; X. 201 ; each sees his own de- 
faced, ii. 103 ; a scale of degrees, 
iv. 24; is not dialectics, iii. 01,07, 
220 ; our dictionary, i. 98 ; a Buc- 
cession of dreams, vi. 305 ; x. 25 ; 
might be easier, ii. 128 ; vi. 200; an 
ecstasy, v. 44, 295 ; made of two 
elements, power and form, love and 
knowledge, iii. 07 ; vii. 282 ; em- 
bryo, viii. 322; its end is that 
man shall take up the universe 
into himself, X. 131 ; epochs, ii. 152 ; 
an expectation, iii. 72 ; an experi- 
ment, i. 171 ; vi. 297; viii. 89; ex- 
presses, i. 10, 171 ; vi. 103 ; external 
and inner, vii. 292 ; is advertisement 
of faculty, iii. 75 ; festival only to 
the wise, ii. 234 ; not to be carrlcid 
oil except by fidelity, x. 170; is 
freedom, vi. 42; a gale of warring 
elements, vii. 105 ; a game, i. 121 ; 
iii. 249 ; its grandeur in spite of us, 
viii. 75 ; should bo made happier, vi. 
252, 200; headlong, iii. 110; liid- 
den, vi. 304 ; nnist be lived on 
higher plane, iii. 250 ; a ring of illu- 
sions, X. 88 ; is not intellectual tast- 
ing, ii. 220 ; iii. 01 ; the literary, xii. 
20() ; lords of, iii. 47 ; less loved, i. 
200 ; love of, the healthy state, viii. 
314, 320 ; lyric or epic, ii. 340 ; 
magical, vii. 172 ; manners aim to 
facilitate, iii. 124 ; a masquer.ade, 
vi. 290, 301 ; mean, i. 217 ; ii. 243 ; 
how di<l we find out that it is mean Y 
251 ; the measure of, vii. 171 ; has 
no memory, iii. 72 ; a miracle, i. 
128; iii. 72; calendared by moments, 
vii. 102 ; a flux of moods, i. 332 ; 
iii. 53, 73; a museum, i. 171 ; musi- 
cal, vi. 15; vii. 172; new ways of, 



iii. 229 ; narrow, vi. 131 ; a pageant, 
i. 254 ; incessant parturition, xii. 
IG ; the pitchhig of a penny, iv. 
143 ; pervasive, i. 07 ; its pleasure 
is what we give it, vi. 44 ; its value 
lies in its inscrutable possibilities, i. 
258 ; iii. 57 ; vi. 249 ; a search for 
power, 02 ; vi. 55 ; a poor preten- 
sion, iii. 218 ; not stationary, ii. 
117 ; iii. 75 ; quarry, i. 99 ; the con- 
dition of release from, vi. 228 ; its 
results incalculable, iii. 71 ; its rich- 
ness, X. 82, 191 ; a riddle, vi. 297 ; 
the true romance, i. 171 ; iii. 270 ; 
vi. 299 ; no rules of, 235 ; secret, 
ili. 02 ; shortness of, makes no dif- 
ference, 03 ; X. 223 ; spiritual, i. 
319 ; a surface affair, vii. 279 ; a 
series of surprises, ii. 298; iii. 09; 
symbolic, x. 131 ; a tent for the 
night, iii. 07 ; the terror of, vi. 11 ; 
no reconciliation of theory and prac- 
tice, iv. 147, 170 ; xii. 51 ; tragi- 
comedy, X. 128 ; transits, vii. 173 ; 
seeming trifles cover capital facts, 
iii. 50 ; vi. 304 ; tricks, iii. 00 ; trou- 
bles, viii. 41 ; unity, iii. 79 ; value, 
04; X. 97 ; visionary, iii. 84. 

Light, i. 21, 311 ; ii. 79 ; vii. 279 ; viii. 
300. 

Lightning, painting the lightning with 
charcoal, iii. 103; air would rot 
without, xii. 49. 

Lightning-rod, the best, one's own 
spine, vi. 221. 

Like draws to like, ii. 293. 

Like, use of word, viii. 17. 

Lime in their bones holds them to- 
gether, vi. 199. 

Limitation the only sin, ii. 287. 

Limits, ix. 314. 

Lincoln, Abuaham, xi. 305-315 ; 

viii. 122, 301. 

Linnuuus, vii. 198, 208, 310 ; xii. 90 ; 
quoted, iv. 102. 

Literalists, iv. 117 ; vi. 135 ; x. 225. 

LiTEiiAHY Ethics, i. 149-180. 

Literary genius, iii. 103; xii. 200. 

Literary men, i. 170, 231 ; iv. 144, 
250; V. 8; x. 249; xi. 227. 

Literary reputation, ii. 140, 288. 

Literary work, viii. 273. 

LiTEUATUllE, MoDEttN, THOUOHTS ON, 

xii. 177-201. 

American, xii. 2C0 ; ancient, ii. 

29 ; biography of man, 33 ; bor- 
rowing in, iv. 189 ; critical ten- 
dency, X. 310 ; a decalogue, 200 ; 
eavesdropping, viii. 179; the ell'ort 
of man to indemnify himself for the 
wrongs of Lis condition, xii. 205; 



312 



GENERAL INDEX. 



English, see English literature ; his- 
tory the sum of few ideas, iii. 51 ; 
imaginative, appreciation of, vi. 157; 
immortaUty, iii. 37 ; a point outside 
of present life, ii. 291 ; love of, viii. 
120 ; nature not found in, 66 ; debt 
to past, 171 ; pedantry, 161 ; purest 
pleasure, xii. 205 ; of the poor, i. 
110 ; praise, viii. 170 ; reason of, 
doubted, iii. 67 ; sanction, xii. 205 ; 
sinful, i. 210 ; to be learned in the 
street, vii. 16 ; subjective, iii. 77 ; 
support, xi. 403 ; use, ii. 291 ; val- 
ues, xii. 177 ; variety, 178 ; word- 
catching, ii. 272 ; not yet written, i. 
162. 

Liturgies, iv. 191 ; v. 215 ; viii. 173. 

Liver, religion in the, iii. 55. 

Living, by desire to live, viii. 327 ; 
earning a, vi. 85 ; modes of, not 
agreeable to the imagination, i. 258 ; 
with others, iii. 109 ; vii. 16 ; x. 
346 ; solitary, i. 322. 

Load, Uft lightest, vi. 231. 

Locality, excitant of the muse, viii. 
275 ; xii. 86. 

Locomotives, vi. 20. 

Logic necessary but must not be 
spoken, ii. 307 ; v. 80 /; viii. 16, 
26. 

Logs, ii. 214 ; Walden, viii. 266. 

London Times, v. 247-258. 

Loquacity, vii. 63 ; viii. 73. 

Lord, a good lord must be first a good 
animal, iii. 121. 

Lord's Prayer, iv. 191 ; xii. 213, 263. 

Lord's Supper, xi. 7-29 ; i. 138. 

Lords of life, iii. 47 ; ix. 228. 

Loss, none in nature, x. 73. 

Lot of life, ii. 86. 

Lottery prize, vi. 115. 

Louis XIV., i. 193. 

Love, ii. 159-179; ix. 92-105, 242; 
abandonment, i. 206 ; arch-ab- 
olitionist, xi. 263 ; afar, is spite at 
home, ii. 53; the affirmative of 
affirmatives, vii. 291 ; xii. 56 ; as- 
pires to a higher object, i. 207 ; be- 
lieving, ii. 132; blind because he 
does not see what he does not like, 
225; vi. 274; ix. 99; remedy for 
blunders, vi. 208 ; village boys and 
girls, ii. 164 ; ever enlarges its cir- 
cles, 174 ; made a commodity, 196 ; 
concentrates, 330 ; court and parlia- 
ment of, 162 ; basis of courtesy, iii. 
139, 143, 148 ; crimes from, 79 ; cu- 
riosity about, vii. 284; day dark 
without, ix. 245; teaching, ii. 40; 
debt to, 165 ; desire, i, 324 ; ii. 72 ; 
disappointed, iii. 185; disruption, 



ii. 176 ; dream, 174 ; ebb and flow, 
187 ; enchantment, 161 ; enlarges 
mind, vii. 291; enthusiasm, i. 206; 
expands powers, ii. 169 ; viii. 217 ; 
few capable of, xii. 266 ; and friend- 
ship, 192 ; iii. 109 ; vii. 125 ; genius 
is love impersonal, i. 207 ; growth, 
ii. 174 ff; alone makes happy, i. 
207 ; is in hope and not in history, 
ii. 163 ; humility, xi. 344 ; illusion, 
vi. 302 ; makes immortal, ii. 248 ; 
impersonal, 174; impressionability, 
vii. 285 ; inexhaustible, iii. 101 ; in- 
sight, i. 207 ; mathematically just, 
ii. 112 ; low, iv. 124 ; madness, vi. 
44 ; new meanings, iii. 148 ; and 
mind, vi. 208 ; momentary, iv. 123// 
and nature, iii. 233; nobility, ix. 
105 ; xi. 345 ; never outgrowTi, i. 
125 ; overstaj'ing its moment, ix. 
21 ; makes what it loves its own, iii. 
158 ; panacea of nature, i. 239 ; gives 
perception, vii. 291 ; deification of 
persons, ii. 165; profane, xi. 344; 
proofs, 345; against property, iii. 
249 ; purifies itself, ii. 173 ; we can 
receive from, iii. 156 ; redeemer, vi. 
208 ; remedy for ills, i. 239, 241 ; 
renewing principle, iii. 249 ; science 
learned in, ii. 343; teaches self- 
knowledge, 40 ; not won by services, 
iii. 159; sexual, iv. 69; sharp-sighted, 
vi. 275 ; makes aU things alive and 
significant, ii. 168 ; as basis of state, 
iii. 209,^; temporary, ii. 176; tent, 
xi. 344 ; has a speedy term, iii. 78 ; 
transcends object, ii. 206 ; trans- 
forms, 176 ; vi. 44 ; and truth, ii. 
321; universal, 183; vii. 285; un- 
requited, ii. 206 ; wisdom, i. 206 ; iv. 
209; work, ii. 161, 166; rebuilds 
world, i. 241 ; ii. 168 ; reflection of 
worth, 203. 

Love, if I, ii, 171. 

Lover, all love a lover, ii. 164; all 
should be lovers, i. 241 ; commimi- 
cations, vii. 286 ; described, ii. 168 ; 
eyes and ears, vii. 285 ; sees no re- 
semblances in his mistress, ii. 170 ; 
forgiving too much, iii. 134 ; bide at 
home, vi. 232 ; marriage, iii. 179 ; 
of men, xii. 57 ; nation of lovers, xi. 
195 ; never old, vii. 316 ; has more 
and finer senses, 285 ; sonnets, viii. 
15 ; strangeness, iii. 134 ; like waves, 
ix. 97 ; what is loved, vi. 302 ; worlds 
of, ix. 135 ; worship, ii. 187. 

Lovejoy, Elijah P., ii. 247. 

Lovely, feeble souls do not wish to be 
lovely but to be loved, iii. 96. 

Lowell mills, iii. 21. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



313 



Lowliness, x. 188 ; xi. 344. 
Loyalty, ii. 63; v. 179; vi. 195/. 
Lubricity, ii. 209 ; iii. 53 ; xi. 403. 
Lucian quoted, x. 17. 
Luck, i. 183 ; ii. 222 ; v. 88 ; vi. 210 ; 

X. 20/. 
Lucretius, vii. 1G8 ; quoted, iv. 110. 
Lustres, ii. 205 ; reading for the, iii. 

222. 
Luther, Martin, ii. 33; vii. 93, 223; 

viii. 9, 287 ; x. 196 ; xi. 271, 368, 

418, 420 ; quoted; iv. 147, 251 ; vii. 

79 ; viii. 92 ; xii. 148. 
Luxury, i. 231 ; v. 158. 
Lyceum, xii. 97. 
Lyncseus, iii. 25. 
Lynch law, iii. 203. 
Lyric poets, iii. 14, 32. 
Lyrical glances, viii. 257. 

MacaiUay, Thomas B., v. 234 /; 248, 
277. 

Machiavelli quoted, viii. 19. 

Machinery, ii. 84 /; v. 102, 153 #, 
161 (T; vi. 81, 89; aggressive, vii. 
157 /; viii. 135 // xii. 63 ; of soci- 
ety, i. 300 ; ii. 130. 

Madness and genius, viii. 264 ; of 
love, vi. 44. 

Magic, ii. 37 ; iii. 36, 70, 94, 108, 224 ; 
vi. 99, 269, 302 ; xii. 233. 

Magna Charta, v. 87, 285, 291; vi. 
241 ; viii. 204. 

Magnanimity, iii. 157, 260 ; x. 65. 

Magnetic boat, ii. 343. 

Magnetism, ii. 94; viii. 14 ; personal, 
i. 206 ; ii. 64, 127 ; iii. 90, 218 ; vi. 
44, 55, 269; vii. 19, 287 ; viii. 301. 

animal. See Mesmerism. 

Mahomet quoted, ii. 229; vi. 229; 
viii. 96, 326 ; x. 172 ; xi. 348. 

Maia, vii. 165. 

Maintenon, Madame de, story of, viii. 
93. 

Majestic men, iii. 107. 

Majorities, vi. 19, 236. 

Maker, and not the made, x. 453 ; xii. 
42. 

Malaga of praise, ix. 116. 

Malays, viii. 205 ; x. 13 ; xi. 197. 

Malefactors, vi. 236. 

Malpighi, doctrine of leasts, iv, 101, 
110. 

Maltlius, doctrine, vii. 145/, 156. 

Mammoth Cave, vi. 293 ; viii. 144. 

Man, aboriginal, viii. 256 ; of action, 
iv. 144 ; is all, i. 113 ; the proper 
object of plastic art, xii. 121 ; ani- 
mates what he sees and sees only 
what he animates, iii. 95 ; apostro- 
phe to, i. 196 ; ashamed of self, 140 ; 



beast-like, vii. 260 ; benefactor, i. 
236; not born, 187; centre of be- 
ing, 33 ; iv. 15 ; channel of heaven 
to earth, i. 200 ; clieap, 327 ; com- 
pensation in gifts, ii. 95 ; made for 
conflict, xii. 55 ; difference of men 
is in their principle of associa- 
tion, ii. 17; divided into men, i. 84 ; 
not domesticated in the planet, iii. 
66 ; elusive, 131 ; encyclopaedia of 
facts, ii. 10 ; farmer, instead of man 
farming, i. 85; half -finished, vi. 
158; modified fish, xii. 20; Fou- 
rier's scheme for composing him, x. 
330; a fraction, i. 223; fruit of 
ages, 196; rests on the bosom of 
God, 68, 186 ; a god in ruins, 
74 ; growth, ii. 287 ; enters into 
God, viii. 330 ; should make life 
and nature happier, vii. 289; Her- 
bert's poem on, i. 72 ; each a hint 
of, iii. 215 ; explicable only by his 
history, ii. 9 ; vii. 287 ; great men 
exalt the idea of, xii. 152 ; a golden 
impossibility, iii. 68, 70; inventor, 
v. 161 ; the only joker in nature, 
viii. 151 ; is a kingdom, xi. 198 ; a 
compactor landscape, ii. 328 ; con- 
necting link in nature, i. 197 ; vi. 
27; a machine, 81 ; nature economi- 
cal in making him, iv. 95 ; the 
masses, i. 106 ; power over matter, 
vi. 46, 89 ; measure of, ii. 61 ; vi. 
182; vii. 159; x. 52; xi. 180; xii. 
9 ; and men, i. 84, 107 ; vii. 15 ; viii. 
209 ; metamorphosed into things, i. 
85; every man a new method, xii. 
27 ; microcosm, i. 72 ; iv. 84 ; viii. 
27 ; Milton's idea of, xii. 152 ; re- 
lation to nature, i. 16, 19, 69, 72, 
75, 80, 111, 187, 197, 299; in. 167, 
171, 176; iv. 15, 17; vi. 89, 229, 
269 ; vii. 46, 127, 281 ; viii. 14, 212 ; 
X. 75; xi. 226, 388, 423; xu. 26; 
nature's self - expression, ii. 328 ; 
each needed, vi. 239; the only ob- 
ject that really interests us, 271 ; 
one, i. 84 ; xi. 173 ; organized jus- 
tice, iv. 116 ; action his ornament, 
i. 173; palace of sight and sound, 
196 ; pendant to events, iii. 90 ; 
physician's view of, vi. 134 ; given 
a good light, like a picture, 187 ; 
great, falls into place, iv. 13 ; a 
plant, i. 16, 299; iv. 152; xii. 22; 
unbounded possibility, i. 68 ; power, 
X. 75 ; should live in the present, ii. 
67 ; pretension, iii. 100 ; vi. 144 ; 
principle, i. 304 ; xi. 199 ; lives in 
pulses, ii. 254 ; a quotation, iv. 44 ; 
redeemer, i. 251 ; bundle of rela- 



314 



GENERAL INDEX. 



tions, ii. 39 ; representative, iii. 
215 ; V. 161 ; brings revolution, i. 
141 ; self-subsistency, xi. 199 ; ser- 
vant, i. 73 ; of social earth, ix. 97 ; 
infinite soul, i. 134 ; a stream of hid- 
den source, ii. 252 ; never symmet- 
rical, iii. 216; his characteristic is 
teachableness, xi. 126 ; facade of 
temple, ii. 254 ; thunderbolt, vi. 
269 ; each obeys some thought, ii. 
283 ; the timely, iii. 40 ; vi. 43 ; a 
true man belongs to no time or 
place, ii. 61 ; better than a town, 
87 ; xii. 23 ; unity, i. 106 ; upbuild- 
ing, 107 ; for use, his universal at- 
tributes to be emphasized, 157 ; xi. 
423 ; xii. 105 ; victor over things, x. 
127 ; to be valued by his best mo- 
ments, vi. 273 ; wanted, but not 
much, iii. 229 ; commonly the victim 
of events, x. 40 ; is for use, xii, 105 ; 
grows from within, iv. 12; infinite 
worth, i. 209, 237 ; has wronged 
himself, 100. 

Man of Letters, x. 229-246. 

Man the Reformer, i. 215-244. 

Man of the world, his mark the ab- 
sence of pretension, vi. 144. 

Manchester, Speech at, v. 292-296. 

Manifest destiny, xi. 245. 

Manila of pepper, xii. 12. 

Manipular attempts to realize ideas, 
iii. 85. 

Manliness, vi. 91 ; viii. 123, 288. 

Mannerism, nature abhors, iii. 228. 

Manners, iii. 115-150; ix. 234; 

affirmative, vii. 290; effect of air 
and place, vi. 144, 153 ; xii. 85 ; 
American, vi. 167 ; viii. 79 ; associ- 
ate us, vi. 165 ; Bacon on, vii. 18 ; 
basis, seH-reUance, iii. 133 ; vi. 178 ; 
better than beauty, 187 ; x. 38, 57 ; 
benevolence the foundation, iii. 
138 ; presuppose capacity in the 
blood, vi. 169 ; charm, iii. 149 ; vi. 
153; viii. 79; a clothing, 80; com- 
municated, vi. 134, 143, 164 ; rein- 
forced by companionship, viii. 82 ; 
defects, iii. 135 ; deference the first 
point, 133; defined, vi. 163, 178; 
directness the mark of superior, 
185 ; and dress, viii. 87 ; English, v. 
101 ; rule of, to avoid exaggeration, 
viii. 85 ; always under examination, 
vi. 165 ; factitious, 168 ; fraternize, 
iii. 128 ; genesis, 124 ; of girls, vi. 
189 ; of Greeks, ii. 28 ; happy ways 
of doing tilings, vi. 163 ; viii. 83 ; 
heroic, vi. 186 ; hospitable, xii. 240 ; 
household, viii. 104 ; intellectual 
quality, iii. 134; interest, x. 38; 



irresistible, vi. 164; isolation, viii. 
81 ; Jonson on, iii. 115 ; a language, 
vi. 163 ; and life, iii. 124 ; vii. 121 ; 
majestic, 14 ; nature values, viii. 
81 ; novels, the record of, vi. 183 ; 
vii, 204 ; xii. 232 ; of the old school, 
viii. 100 ; ornament, ii. 22 ; Phidias, 
xii, 240 ; poetry of, vi. 183 ; of 
power, iii. 124 ; v. 178 ; vi. 164, 176, 
181 ; viii. 79, 81, 208, 220 ; and reli- 
gion, xii. 99 ; none but negative 
rules, vi. 188 ; viii. 85 ; made up of 
sacrifices, 104; sculpture teaches, 
vi. 153; secondariuess in, 189; re- 
vealers of secrets, viii. 83; must 
show self-control, vi. 187 ; their first 
service to make us endurable to each 
other, 166 ; and society, iii. 144 ; vi. 
165, 177, 183; table, viii. 97; require 
time, vi. 179; tranquil, vii. 121. See, 
also, Behavior. 

Mansfield, Lord, vii. 88 ; xi. 137, 213 ; 
quoted, v. 248 ; xi. 169. 

Manual labor, i. 224^. See, also, La- 
bor. 

Manual skill, over-estimate of, iii, 13. 

Many-weathered world, iv, 136. 

Maple, i. 209 ; uncorrupt, iii. 175 ; ix. 
41 ; xi. 42. 

Marmontel quoted, viii. 183. 

Marriage, aims, ii. 178 ; iii. 179 ; vii. 
123; bad, ii. 142; iii. 249; iv. 120; 
vi. 299 ; vii. 205 ; of character, 123 ; 
connected with abundance of food, 
136 ; Fourier on, x, 333 // a benefi- 
cial illusion, vi. 299 ; low views of, 
ii. 174; Milton on, xii. 167, 170, 
173 ; of minds, iii. 78 ; in novels, vii, 
205 ; open question, iv, 151 ; Pan- 
dora-box, vi, 299 ; reform of, i. 201 ; 
Swedeuborg on, iv. 120, 122 ; trap, 
vi, 299 ; chief in women's history, 
ii. 174 ; vii. 120. 

Marseillaise, xi. 223. 

Martial quoted, vi. 283 ; viii, 177, 

Martyrdoms, looked mean when they 
were suffered, iii. 50; most keenly 
felt by beholders, vii, 250 ; xii. 163. 

Marvell, Andrew, quoted, vii. 143, 
232. 

Masks, which we wear and which we 
meet, vi. 180 ; vii. 106-298 ; ix. 214 ; 
objects as, i. 247 ; vi. 290, 301 ; viii. 
15, 309. 

Massachusetts, xi, 217, 409; in the 
Civil War, 321 ; planters of, com- 
fortable citizens, xii. 93, 107. 

Agriculture of, xii, 219-224, 

Quarterly Review, Editors' 

Address, xi. 323-334, 

Massena, i, 146, 



GENEBAL INDEX. 



315 



Masses of men, i. 106, 240 ; iv. 34 /; 
we do not want any masses, vi. 237. 

Master, without apprenticeship, vii. 
273 ; be master, viii. 297 ; one in 
century, vi. 238 ; of living well, vii. 
118 ; every man a, viii. 296 ; likes 
masters, iv. 256 ; uses the materials 
he has, vii. 169 ; his measure is suc- 
cess, vi. 157 ; of mobs, vii. 94, 277 ; 
works for joy, 174 ; passive, ix. 17 ; 
source of his power, iii. 60, 94 ; iv. 
182 ; can formulate his thought, xii. 
40. 

Material, thought surroimds itself 
with, iii. 19 ; viii, 19 ; xi. 191, 328 ; 
xii. 5 ; has its translation, through 
humanity, into the spiritual, iv. 16. 

Materialism, i. 183, 311 ; iii. 56 ; iv. 
148, 165 ; V. 223 ; x. 209, 2.32. 

Mates, how found, vi. 49. 

Matter, its laws run up into the inv isi- 
ble world of mind, x. 74. 

Matter, devotion to, ii. 211 ; no final- 
ity, iv. 16, 114; vii. 123; viii. 10; 
our friend, iii. 165 ; the apparition 
of God, i. 39, 66 ; has meaning, iii. 
10, 84 ; vi. 40, 83 ; vii. 159, 283 ; 
viii. 15 ; laws of, are laws of mind, 
vi. 32, 209 ; viii. 16, 19, 21, 26 ; xii. 
40 ; perception of, viii. 9 ; priva- 
tion, X. 267 ; and spirit, ii. 213 ; iii. 
56 ; vi. 27 ; what and whence, i. 
66/. 

May-Day, ix. 143-159. 

May Morning, ix. 304/. 

May and must, xi. 218. 

Maya, vi. 25. 

Means, to ends, i. 173 ; degradation of 
man to means, 264 ; iii. 247 ; vii. 
110. 

Measure, love of, iii. 135 ; party sac- 
rifices man to measures, i. 264 ; xi. 
402 ; half-measures, vi. 203 ; of civ- 
ilization, culture, distance, friends, 
health, life, man, master, mmd, 
power, progress, success, time. See 
under iliose words. 

Mechanics, vi. 91. 

Mechanics' Apprentices' Library Asso- 
ciation, lecture, i. 215-244. 

Mechanism in thought, xii. 24. 

Medusa, the Rondanini, vii. 9. 

Melioration, iv. 38 ; incapacity for, the 
only mortal distemper, vi. 135, 
158 /, 246 ; vii. 159, 163, 260 ; viii. 
137 ; the law of nature, x. 181 /. 

Melrose Abbey, inscription at, viii. 
310. 

Memory, xii. 61-81 ; ix. 242 ; am- 
ber of, ii. 166 ; cave, i. 196 ; corpse, 
ii. 58 ; a critic, viii. 36 ; defect of 



not always want of intellect, xii. 
72 ; diving-bell, x. 79 ; eloquence 
steals, vii. 71; English live by, v. 
239 ; not inert, iv. 250 ; life has no 
memory, iii. 72 ; of love's visita- 
tions, ii. 166 ; mendicant, iii. 122 ; 
vii. 18 ; mother of the muses, xii. 
68 ; notebooks impair, ii. 83 ; praises 
by holding fast the best, xii. 75; 
never rely on, ii. 58 ; sempiternal, 
300 ; stone-incarved traits, ix. 97 ; 
topical, vi. 127 ; things tragic are 
comely in, ii. 125 ; waking and sleep- 
ing, X. 11 ; unconscious, ii. 311 ; 
wall, X. 7 ; weakened by writing 
and prmting, xii. 71. 

Men, not actions, wanted, i. 264 ; bet- 
ter than they seem, iii. 259 ; de- 
scend to meet, ii. 261 ; fragments, 
i. 253 ; go in flocks, 142 ; knowledge 
of, vi. 58 ; nation of, i. 115 ; more 
than nations, viii. 209 ; all at last of 
a size, iv. 35 ; wanted, xi. 162 ; 
well-mixed, x. 46. 

Menage, Abb(5, quoted, vi. 284. 

Menagerie, vi. 14 ; x. 12. 

Menander quoted, vii. 124. 

Mencius, iii. 74 ; iv. 19. 

Menial years, ii. 152. 

Mental activity, law of, viii. 290. 

Mercantile Library Association, Bos- 
ton, lecture, i. 341-372. 

Merchant, the, iii. 92 ; vi. 99. 

Merit, all sensible to, iii. 64 ; men can- 
not afford to live together on their 
merits, vii. 18. 

Merlin, ix. 106-110. 

Merops, ix. 113. 

Merrimac river, xii. 88. 

Mesmerism, iii. 172, 224 ; vi. 200 ; x. 
17, 30, 318. 

Messiah, infancy a, i. 74. 

Meta-chemistry, v. 227. 

Metamorphosis, the soul advances by, 
ii. 258 ; viii. 14, 20, 23, 72. 

Metaphor, nature a, i. 38. 

Metaphysics, a sliowuig of the relation 
of things to the mind, i. 71 ; ii. 188 ; 
iv. 106 ; vii. 202 ; dangerous, xii. 12/. 

Metempsychosis. See Transmigration. 

Method, ii. 137; 215, 308 ; iii. 247 ; iv. 
102; analytical, to be avoided, xii. 
13. 

Methodists, v. 212 ; viii. 112, 206. 

Metonymy, viii. 20, 29. 

Metre, viii. 49, 51. See, also, Meas- 
ure. 

Metternich quoted, xi. 398. 

Mexican War, vi. 65. 

Microcosm, each particle a, 1. 48 ; ii. 
98/; iv. 84, 110; vi. 121. 



316 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Jliddle Ages, viii. 204. 

Middle passage, xii. 270. 

Middle point, man a, ii. 131. 

Mid- world, iii. 66. 

Miles, iv. 77 ; vi. 23. 

Military mind, x. 41. 

Militia, xi. 107. 

Milk, a man made of, vii. C9 ; of na- 
ture, vi. 70. 

Mill, of fate, ix. 233 ; of slavery, xi. 
214 ; of truism, i. 161. 

Millennium, five minutes of to-day 
worth as much as five minutes in 
the next millennium, iii. 03. 

Milnes, Richard M., quoted, vi. 145. 

Milton, John, xii. 143-174; 

Channing on, x. 320 ; viii. 50 ; ser- 
vice to English language, xii. 157, 
165 ; generalizations, v. 232 ; hu- 
manity, xii. 188 ; influence, x. 376 ; 
too literary, iii. 41 ; manliness, xii. 
192 ; loved his poetry, viii. 33 ; his 
prose, vii. 207; xii. 172/; style, v. 
223 ; xii. 225, 247 ; a table-land, v. 
232 ; tin-pan, viii. 09 ; quoted, i. 68, 
259 ; ii. 168, 187, 274 ; iii. 32, 107 ; 
iv. 188 ; viii. 50, 311 ; x. 411 ; xi. 
298, 344. 

Mimir's spring, vi. 133. 

Mind, does not age, ii. 298 ; obedience 
of body to, viii. 07, 206 ; every mind 
a new classification, ii. 78 ; common 
to all men, 9; creator, xii. 15; di- 
vine, x. 100 ; doors of, 132 ; flower 
of the, i. 203; iii. 30; growth, ii. 
307 ; hand of the, i. 43 ; and heart, 
vi. 208 ; xii. 56 ; law of, its deriva- 
tion, ii. 305 ; viii. 212 ; what it does 
not live it wiU not know, ii. 15 ; a 
looking-glass, viii. 267; xii. 66 ; meas- 
ured by love, vi. 208; measure of, 
iv. 23 ; vi. 46 ; has its own methods, 
ii. 308 ; mystery of, x. 74 ; influ- 
ences of nature upon, i. 86 ; iii. 188 ; 
vii. 283 ; viii. 67 ; observation, xii. 
13 ; nothing old but, viii. 202 ; not 
enshrined in a person, i. 108; like 
plant, xii. 22 ; source of all power, 
viii. 281 ; x. 130 ; rank in minds, 
viii. 295; the only reality, i. 315; 
good sailor, v, 33; science of, ii. 
321; vii. 283; x. 209; xii. 11; sex 
of, vi. 59 ; temple, 290 ; its think- 
ing prior to reflection, ii. 305 ; unity, 
xii. 184 ; universal, i. 123 ; ii. 9 ; x. 
95 ; better the more it is used, xi. 
400 ; varieties, »ii. 16 ; the world its 
table, i. 120 ; iii. 188 ; x. 131 ; youth 
of, ii. 256. 

Mind-cure, vii. 215. 

Minder, vii. 137. 



Mine, and his, ii. 119 ; who are, 186. 

Minerva, iii. 74. 

Minister. See Clergy, Preachers. 

Minnesinger quoted, viii. 41. 

Minorities, iii. 126 ; vi. 236 ; viii. 
206, 208 /; influence of, xi. 222, 
361. 

Mirabeau, iv. 216 ; vii. 10 ; viii. 268. 

Miracle, The, ix. 305/. 

Miracle, argument from, i. 127 ; xi. 
390 ; belief in, vi. 269 ; Christianity 
does not rest on, x. 106 ; xi. 390 ; in 
the common, i. 78 ; x. 18 ; conver- 
sion by, i. 131 ; false emphasis on, 
128; of genius, viii. 258, 291; the 
hero believes in, i. 319 ; of Hohen- 
lohe, 76; life a, 128, 319; iii. 72; 
of mind, xii. 6 ; is monster, i. 128 ; 
X. 17 ; the one, iv. 109 ; x. 192, 
214 ; of poetry, viii. 21 ; of science, 
197 ; self-sacrifice the root of, vii. 
239 ; universal, ii. 66 ; of will, xii. 
43. 

Mirrors, poets are, iii. 43. 

Mirth, its limits, viii. 166. 

Misers, v. 131 ; vi. 127 ; vii. 273. 

Misfortunes, the good are befriended 
by, ii. 112. 

Missionaries, men made for, vi. 140 ; 
things as, x. 86. 

Mist, affections as, ii. 304 ; ix. 36. 

Mistakes, nature makes none and par- 
dons none, i. 44 ; x. 40. 

Misunderstood, ii. 58. 

MiTHRiDATES, ix. 30 ; xii. 265. 

Mixtures in nature, xii. 24. 

Mobs, ii. 115 ; iii. 203 ; a course of, vi. 
78, 248 ; vii. 77, 94/; viii. 142/ 

Models are to be refused, i. 143; x. 
35, 63. 

Moderation, be moderate as the fact, 
X. 162, 104. 

Mohammed. See Mahomet. 

Molecular philosophy, iii. 66. 

Moments, the quality, not number, 
imports, i. 330 ; ii. 296, 300 ; iii. 63, 
111; iv. 10; vii. 162, 170/, 175/; 
viii. 39 ; ix. 21, 288 ; x. 242. 

Momentum of thought and emotion, 
i. 336; xii. 21. 

Momus, vi. 297 ; x. 30. 

MONADNOC, ix. 58-70, 310 : ix. 13, 

282, 312. 

Monads, viii. 10. 

Monarchs, iii. 199, 202; x. 44. See, 
also, Kings. 

Money, a barometer, vi. 101 ; blood, 
121 ; what it can buy, 101 ; viii. 
255 ; often costs too much, vi. 107 ; 
and culture, xii. 258 ; not all debts 
paid with, iii. 244; x. 64; dragon. 



GENEBAL INDEX. 



317 



V. 163 ; effrontery, x. 267 ; means 

of freedom, vii. Ill ; giving, 112 ; 

Indians and negroes as, xi. 214; 

laws of the world written on, ii. 

221; making, i. 223; vi. 99, 127; 

vii. 27 ; xii. 258 ; a delicate meter, 

vi. 100 ; must liave, xi. 400 ; its pa- 
per wings, V. 103 ; prose of life, iii. 

221 ; laws beautiful as roses, 221 ; 

for what sought, i. 107; rule for 

spending, 362 ; ii. 221 ; iii. 221 ; vi. 

122 ; vii. 108 ; use, iii. 240 ; iv. 147 ; 

vi. 122 ; wise man needs not, iii. 207; 

possesses world, vi. 94. 
Monk, Basle, story of, vi. 185. 
Monks, 1. 218 ; x. 140. 
Monoco, John, xi. 61. 
Monomaniacs, utility of, vi. 93. 
Monopolies not admitted, i. 201 ; ii. 

90 ; xi. 424. 
Monotones, xii. 46/. 
Montaigne, iv. 141-177; and 

bigots, X. 181 ; use of books, viii. 

274 ; delight in, iii. 58 ; eclecticism, 

X. 291 ; in Italy, iii. 133 ; Landor 

on, V. 11 ; license of speech, xii. 

203 ; and Plutarch, x. 283 ; not to 

be read, viii. 279 ; spirit, xii. 184 ; 

power of statement, vii. 88 ; value, 

xii. 205 ; defense in civil wars, i. 

304 ; quoted, vi. Ill ; vii. 188 ; x. 

279. 
Montesquieu quoted, v. 83 ; vii. 37, 

228 ; viii. 313, 324 ; x. 279 ; xi, 169, 

224. 
Montluc quoted, vii. 246; viii. 142, 

291. 
Moods, life a train of, iii. 53, 58/, 73, 

235, 257 ; iv. 167 ; vi. 304 ; vii. 162 ; 

viii. 259. 
Moore, Thomas, xii. 227, 229 ; quoted, 

viii. 52, 177, 187. 
Moral, all things are, i. 46 ; ii. 99 ; vii. 

282 ; viii. 11 ; xi. 328 ; defined, vi. 

205 ; xi. 288 ; measure of health, 

208 ; x. 179. 
Moral discipline of life, x. 96, 180. 
Moral element, in beauty, vi. 207, 

290 ; in life, 194 ; viii. 214 ; xii. 57 ; 

in poetry, viii. 64. 
Moral evil, debt to, xii. 51. 
Moral forces in nature, i. 48 ; iii. Ill ; 

X. 80, 89, 180. 
Moral genius, xi. 173. 
Moral laws, vi. 200 ; universality of, 

i. 132 ; iii. 203 ; x. 17, 134. 
Moral nature vitiated by interference 

of will, ii. 127 ; vi. 205 ; xi. 133. 
Moral power, has not kept pace with 

material, vii. 160, 182 ; the two al- 
lied, viii. 299 ; x. 66, 74. 



Moral problems, xi. 194. 

Moral science, vi. 229 ; x. 93. 

Moral sentiment, adorers of, x. 117 ; 
its authority, 217 ; in animals, 178 ; 
its commanding attraction, 137 ; vi. 
223 ; the causing force, i. 274 ; vi. 
211; vii. 96; foundation of cul- 
ture, iii. 210 ; vi. 166 ; vii. 202 ; viii. 
210; X. 97; xi. 383; equalizes all, 
vi. 223; speaks to every man, xi. 
388 ; critic of forms, x. 105 ; grows 
everywhere, like grass, 111 ; makes 
free, vi. 32 ; x. 94, 216 ; images of, 
98 ; intellect witliout, vii. 257 ; sup- 
ported by self-interest, xi. 155 ; ne- 
gations of, viii. 221 ; new uses, iii. 
70 ; makes poetry, iv. 92 ; power, 
91/; vi. 33; x. 88, 97, 102; per- 
manence, vi. 204 ; vii. 288 ; x. 104, 
113 ; takes precedence, iv. 92 ; the 
supreme reality, i. 40, 274 ; x. 93, 
97 ; religion its practice, 104, 114, 
200, 203; renunciation of, vii. 78; 
measured by sacrifice, viii. 325 ; in 
Saxon race, v. 294 ; science does not 
surprise it, viii. 217 ; skepticism 
lost in, iv. 174 ; foundation of soci- 
ety, i. 125; vi. 217; vii. 30, 36; 
X. 67 ; xi. 313 ; Sophocles on, x. 
295. 

Moral union and intellectual, vii. 14. 

Moral values and material, commen- 
surate, vi. 101 ; xi. 328 ; xii. 100. 

Moral world, a world of precise law, 
iv. 82. 

Morality, the basis of legislation, xi. 
288, 331, 421 ; viere morality, vi. 
206 ; X. 195. 

Morals, the measure of, and arts, vii. 
159 ; defined, 30 ; dogmas rest on, 
X. 109, 113; mixes itself with econ- 
omy, vi. 90 ; is direction of the will 
on universal ends, x. 94 ; object of 
government, xi. 288, 422 ; moral 
sentiment helps us by putting us in 
place, X. 97 ; language the test of, 
iii. 220 ; not lodged in us, but we in 
it, X. 99 ; and population depends 
on, vii. 147 ; immoral religions, vi. 
199 ; X. 109, 113 ; unity of thought 
and, 178 ; not to be voted down, xi. 
223. 

More, Henry, quoted, ii. 249 ; xi. 344. 

More, tragedy of more and less, ii. 
118. 

Morgue of convention, iv. 275; vii. 
229. 

Morning, defend your morning, viii. 
271 ; influences, 269, 271 ; let it be, 
vii. 173; of the mind, i. 163, 210; 
iii. 186, 188; peace, 186,- do not 



318 



GENEBAL INDEX. 



pollute, Ti. 188; spectacle, i. 22; 
new thought awaits, vlii. 271, 29'4 ; 
tranquillity, iii. 28. 

Morphy, Paul, vii. 253. 

Morte d'Arthur, viii. 61, 275. 

Mothers, men are what their mothers 
made them, vi. 16. 

Mother - wit, vi. 130, 205 ; x. 154, 
269. 

Motion, nature's secret, i. 55 ; iii. 173, 
186 ; vi. 277, 279. 

Motives, work depends on, x. 214:. 

Mountain and squirrel, ix. 71. 

Mountains, influence of their presence, 
vi. 153 ; ix. 282 ; xii. 85, 187. 

Mozart, i. 324. 

Much will have more, vii. 156. 

Mud, at bottom of eye, vi. 174 ; maga- 
zine, V. 18 ; pies, x. 345 ; sills, xii. 
105. 

Mumps, soul's, ii. 126. 

Mundt, Theodore, quoted, xii. 256. 

Murder, as it appears to the murderer, 
iii. 79. 

Musagetes, viii. 2G9. 

Muses, X. 250 ; are where the heart is, 
ii. 242. 

Museums, vii. 125.^. 

Mush of concession, ii. 199 ; of mate- 
rialism, viii. 104. 

Mushroom, power, i. 242. 

Music, bath, vi. 98 ; of clock, ii. 214 ; 
discord in, vi. 278 ; disdain, ix. 24 ; 
drunken, 110; opens heavens, vii. 
203 ; life is, vi. 15 ; Milton on, xii. 
154, 158; mute, i. 24; mystery, ii. 
170; of nature, ix. 206; effect of 
place on, vii. 49, 50 ; poor man's 
Parnassus, viii. 54 ; power, vii. 48/, 
58; viii. 49; x. 81, 83; sky-born, 
ix. 272; every sound ends in, vii. 
289; a suggestion, iii. 182; tongue 
framed to, xii. 143 ; voice the sweet- 
est, ii. 340 ; out of a work-house, iii. 
153. 

MusKETAQUiD, ix. 124-127; ix. 

213, 285. 

Musket-worship, v. 272. 

Must and may, actual and ideal, xi. 
218. 

Mysteries, dramatic, x. 234. 

Mysticism and mystics, i. 262 ; iii. 37 ; 
iv. 95 ; viii. 250. 

Mythology, i. 196; ii. 103; viii. 173, 
184, 209 ; xii. 32, 94, 262. 

Nachiketas, viii. 331. 

Namer, poet is, iii. 26. 

Names, faith in, i. 140; 287; ii. 68, 

242 ; iv. 9, 84 ; viii. 29 ; things by 

their right names, x. 145. 



Naples, Written in, ix. 300 /; ^ 

ii. SO, 336. 

Napoleon Bonaparte, iv. 211-245 ; 

a right aristocrat, x. 54 ; art of 

war, ii. 85 ; v. 58 ; vi. 56 ; vii. 169 ; 
xi. 321 ; story of a banker, vi. 99 ; 
battalions, heaviest, v. 85 ; belief, 
vi. 33 ; fell back on the bivouac, ii. 
85 ; use of cannon, viii. 2G5, 297 ; 
and Caprara, iii. 132 ; caution, i. 
173 ; viii. 264 ; called " Cent Mille," 
vi. 238 ; viii. 208 ; Channiug on, x. 
320 ; character, viii. 297 ; celerity 
of combination, x. 81 ; common 
sense, viii. 9; coolness, 80; Cor- 
sican entrenchment, 140 ; blun- 
der worse than crime, iii. 80 ; di- 
plomacy, ii. 138 ; egotism, vi. 152 ; 
in Egypt, x. 242 ; endurance, xii, 
271 ; faith, i. 173 ; feared eyes, iii. 
132 ; army at Eylan, vi. 72 ; courted 
fashion, iii. 125 ; fell on his feet, viii. 
297 ; trusted in his fortune, i. 174 ; 
accounted for his fortune, iii. 92 ; 
on Fox, 138 ; great, viii. 297; Green- 
ough on, vii. 277 ; hand, 257; x. 
20 ; heart, viii. 316 ; history, ii. 15 ; 
intellectual, vi. 152, 301; xii. 69; 
Joseph, vi. 186 ; viii. 297 ; Massena, 
i. 146 ; adaptation of means to 
ends, 173 ; Mediterranean a French 
lake, vii. 161 ; not model, x. 63 ; 
knew but one merit, ii. 156; over- 
throw, V. 90 ; patriot, vi. 18 ; per- 
sonal ascendency, i. 197 ; not for 
picket-duty, x. 236 ; and the plague, 
vi. 222 ; affected plainness, 145 ; 
plans, ii. 128; viii. 264; in prison, 
ii. 39 ; on religion, x. 184 ; and the 
republicans of 1789, xii. 103 ; royal 
armies against, ii. 112; rule, vii. 
272 ; sayings, viii. 17 ; self-trust, 
297 ; X. 20 ; skill, vii. 268 ; believed 
in force of soul, i. 173 ; Madame de 
Stael, iii. 132 ; v. 117 ; tactics, vii. 
84 ; vices good patriots, 34 ; a 
worker, i. 173; iii. 126; needed a 
world, ii. 39. 

Napoleon, Louis, v. 121 ; xi. 224. 

Narcotics as inspiration, iii. 31 /. 

Nations, have been mobs, iii. Ill, 219 
// iv. 47// are doing weU when 
occupied solely with their own af- 
fairs, viii. 209 ; xi. 413. 

Natura, vii. 164. 

Natura naturans, iii. 172 ; nalurafa, 
170. 

Natural history, to be married to hu- 
man, i. 33, 77 ; iii. 171 ; vi. 268 ; viii. 
317 ; X. 177 ; xii. 3 ; resources in, 
viii. 146, 288. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



319 



Natural corresponds to mental law, i. 
88 ; iii. 176 ; iv. 143 ; viii. 13, 211, 
257, 290 ; xii. 4. 

Natural objects as meanings, i. 37, 
202 ; iii. 20 ; not to be known out of 
their connection, viii. 14. 

Natural religion, xi. 389. 

Natural science, i. 45 ; and religion, 
vi. 209 ; viii. 201. 

Naturalist, his methods, x. 152. 

Nature, i. 7-80; iii. 161-188; ix. 
193/; 241, 244. 

AND Life, Fbagments on, ix. 278- 

298. 

Method of, i. 181-213. 

Song of, ix. 209-212. 

an incessant advance, xi. 408 ; 

an aUegSry, x. 185; analogies, 16, 
177 ; never wears a mean appear- 
ance, i. 13; beauty the aim of, vi. 
283, 288 ; xii. 118 ; has her own best 
mode of doing things, iii. 2G ; vi. 
118 ; loved by what is best in us, iii. 
171; the book of Fate, vi. 20; no 
braggart, x. 170; no Buddhist, iii. 
225; changes without violence, 26, 
172; a system of circles, i. 19, 86; 
ii. 293 ; iii. 25 ; is tyrannous cir- 
cumstance, vi. 20; fashions cities, 
iii. 175 ; a mutable cloud, ii. 18 ; does 
not cocker us, iii. 153 ; vi. 12 ; no 
seat vacant in her coUege, iii. 231 ; 
no conjurer, x. 18; always consist- 
ent, iii. 174 ; conspiracies against, x. 
25 ; converse with, i. 164 ; vi. 295 ; 
vii. 148 ; counsellor, ii. 221 ; a crea- 
tion of the mind, vi. 295 ; reveals 
crime, 112 ; deceitful, iii. 184 ; defi- 
nition of, i. 10 ; veils deformity, vii. 
290 ; deifies us, i. 23 ; departments, 
a man for each, viii. 2S8 ; derivation 
of name, vii. 164 ; loves details, iii. 
225 ; descends from above, i. 191 ; 
despotic, iii. 192 ; wears devout as- 
pect, i. 65 ; her dice always loaded, 
44 ; dilettantism about, iii. 170 ; dis- 
cipline of mind, i. 42, 45 ; not to 
be disposed of, iv. 77 ; dust aUied 
to, x. 190 ; in earnest, vii. 236 ; econ- 
omy, i. 352 ; vi. 41, 249 ; elusive, iii. 
184; embosom all, i. 27, 236; en- 
camped in, iii. 182 ; a cup of en- 
chantment, i. 203 ; iii. 167 ; not end 
in itself, i. 25, 54, 192, 202 ; iii. 170 ; 
viii. 10, 19 ; ethical, i. 46 ; is fate, ii. 
328 ; vi. 20 ; vii. 45, 51 ; not to be 
feared, vi. 51 ; ferocity, ii. 235 ; vi. 
13 ; seen by few, i. 14 ; a perpetual 
filtration, vii. 186; not fixed but 
flowing, i. 79 ; viii. 72 ; flattery, iii. 
184 ; fools us, 53, 185 ; forces, x. 73 ; 



xi. 218 ; a sea of forms, i. 29 ; frame 
for man as picture, 27 ; freaks, 
vii. 298 ; will not have us fret, ii. 
129 ; iii. 105 ; frugal, 226 ; xii. 104 ; 
funeral, ix. 218 ; x. 371 ; wiU not 
have us live by general views, iii. 
226; genius a transmutation of, i. 
197, 208 ; vi. 58 ; conditions of her 
gifts, xii. 26 ; gladness, i. 15 ; Goe- 
the's study of, iv. 261 ; measure of 
greatness, x. 169; ever-growing, i. 
193 ; we are guests in, xii. 268 ; rain 
tlie hermitage of, i. 169 ; hiero- 
glyphic, viii. 66 ; history, iv. 249 ; 
hotel not home, viii. 10 ; never hur- 
ries, iv. 79 ; vii. 135 ; xii. 45 ; ideal- 
ist, viii. 30 ; incarnation of God in 
the unconscious, i. 68 ; iii. 187 ; se- 
cures individualism, 68, 177 ; vi. 
128, 133 ; inexact and boundless, i. 
191 ; inspiration in youth, vii. 280 ; 
instability, ii. 283 ; insures herself, 
iii. 27 ; intellect, see under Intel- 
lect ; interpretation, iv. 16 ; never 
jests, viii. 151 ; x. 170 ; never jumps, 
319 ; justice, 184 ; labor her coin, ii. 
118 ; language, viii. 15 ; unity of her 
laws, iii. 173 /; xi. 155 ; identity 
with the laws of the human mind, 
xii. 4, 18 ; works in leasts, iv. 102 ; 
vii. 168 ; ix. 244 ; lessons never lost, 
i. 37 ; likenesses in all her works, ii. 
20 ; no literalist, iv. 117 ; not in lit- 
erature, viii. 66 ; logical, xi. 331 ; 
love of, iii. 20 ; her magazines inex- 
haustible, vii. 139 ; turns malfea- 
sance to good, vi. 239, 243; ought 
to command, 95 ; viii. 98 ; xii. 105 ; 
a disguised man, xii. 21 ; man the 
end of, vi. 55 ; abhors mannerism, 
iii. 228 ; the measure of our rise and 
fall, i. 188 ; medicinal, 22 ; meliora- 
tion, 352 ; iii. 105 ; vi. 135 ; x. 181/; 
her method, vii. 138; xi. 171 ; mid- 
dle-class, 367 ; Milton on, i. 163 ; xii. 
155; mimetic, vi. 294; mirror of 
man, x. 185; pardons no mistakes, 
i. 44; ministry, 18/; miracle, vii. 
164 ; loves mixtures, x. 173 ; xii. 
23; moral in, i. 40, 46/; vii. 282; 
motion, iii. 186 ; vi. 279 ; music, ix. 
206; does not like to be observed, 
iii. 53; we are parasites in, 165; 
has but one stuff, 174 ; ornament, 
mark of excellence, vi. 275; never 
outwitted, X. 30 ; protects own work, 
vii. 12 ; paroquet, ix. 121 ; her pa- 
tience, vii. 135 ; x. 152 ; xii. 47 ; 
hates peeping, iii. 62; perfect by 
practice, vi. 78 ; permanence, x. 130 ; 
pernicious elements, 184 ; hunting 



320 



GENERAL INDEX. 



of the picturesque, iii. 171 ; posture- 
master, viii. 82 ; endless productiou, 
iii. 27, 172, 185 ; vi. 238 ; proportion 
of means to ends, x. 170 ; prose, ii. 
327 ; Proteus, iii. 172 ; punctual, x. 
170 ; pure, ii. 255 ; rag-merchant, vi. 
249 ; ally of religion, i. 46 ; will be 
reported, iv. 249 ; never rhj'mes her 
children, iii. lOG ; rhymes in things, 
ix. 53, 255 ; right manifested in, x. 
185 ; xi. 296 ; no saint, iii. 66 ; sana- 
tive, viii. 213 ; has at heart the for- 
mation of the scholar, iv. 252 ; her 
secret is patience, x. 152 ; her secret 
never extorted, i. 14 ; ii. 339 ; iii. 
185 ; sediment of mind, i. 188 ; no 
seeming in, viii. 152 ; selects, vii. 
186 ; selfish study of, iii. 172 ; self- 
poise, vi. 195; self-registration, iv. 
250 ; self-similar, 102, 104 ; vii. 209 ; 
X. 113 ; as our sensibihty, iii. 54 ; 
viii. 212 ; no sentimentalist, vi. 12 ; 
servant of man, i. 45 ; x. 71 ; xi. 397 ; 
shadow of man, viii. 27 ; simplicity, 
ii. 131; X. 109, 169; solicits man, 
i. 86 ; and soul, 10 ; spasms, x. 
185 ; xi. 224 ; spends freely, 408 ; 
wears the colors of the spirit, 
i. 17 ; sprained foot, xii. 45 ; and 
states of mind, viii. 69 ; crosses 
her stocks, vii. 156 ; stoic, ix. 217 ; 
X. 371 ; strength, iii. 47 ; iv. 203 ; 
vi. 84 ; X. 253 ; xii. 50 ; sublimity, 
viii. 214 ; not a substance, i. 54 ; 
subtle, vii. 140 ; suggestions, 142 ; 
surprises, i. 190 ; ix. 166, 193 ; 
swamp, X. 181 ; syllables, ix. 206 ; 
symbol, i. 37, 204 ; iii. 18, 38, 43 ; vii. 
13, 69 : systematic, vi. 114 ; teachings, 
70 ; X. 127 ; tell-tale, 16 ; echoes the 
ten commandments, i. 46 ; cautious 
testator, vii. 139 ; theory of, i. 
10 ; thermometer, iii. 172 ; works 
in immense time, xi. 408 ; no toy 
to a wise spirit, i. 14 ; authorizes 
trade, iii. 92 ; transcendental, i. 
320 ; not tricked, iii. 32 ; trips us 
up when we strut, v. 147 ; her 
touch should thrill, iii. 12 ; beats in 
time, ix. 53 ; tyrannizes, vi. 20 ; 
vii. 45 ; nothing ultimate in, i. 54 ; 
never in undress, iii. 170 ; unity, 
i. 48 ; vii. 138 ; 14 ; ix. 120 ; x. 
178; universality, i. 192, 194; vii. 
139 ; unresting, i. 236 ; vii. 140 ; 
her victims, iii. 68 ; victories, viii. 
123 ; in league with virtue, ii. Ill ; 
wealth, viii. 133, 135; x. 237; xi. 
397 ; xii. 26 ; hits the white once in 
a million throws, vi. 238 ; whistles 
with all her winds, xii. 48 ; whole- 



ness, ii. 317; her preponderance over 
our will, 128 ; vii. 50 ; gets her work 
done, iii. 226 ; xii. 104 ; rids the 
world of wrong, xi. 224. 

Navigation, the advancer of nations, 
V. 53 ; vii. 25. 

Naylor, James, iii. 180 ; x. 190. 

Near, value of, i. 110/; ii. 81 ; viii. 
193. 

Necessary, make yourself, 1. 180 ; vi. 
260. 

Necessity, beautiful, vi. 51 ; cannot 
emancipate ourselves from, ii. 328, 
340 ; vi. 10, 24, 51 ; vii. 57 ; does all 
things weU, i. 268 ; iii. 154 ; x. 182 ; 
xii. 263 ; beauty rests on, iii. 19 ; 
vi. 279. See, also, Fate, Liberty. 

Negations, be patient with ftur, i. 334 ; 
iv. 165 ; shun, vii. 291 ; viii. 96, 134, 
221 ; of Boston Unitariauism, x. 196, 
211. 

Negro ages of sentiment, x. 311. 

Negroes, vii. 24 ; xi. 132-175, 207-230, 
303 ; xii. 259. See, also, Abolition- 
ism, Emancipation, Slavery. 

Nelson, Horatio, v. 69, 86, 100, 138 ; 
quoted, 128, 149, 189 ; vii. 272 ; viii. 
291. 

Nemesis, ii. 104, 145 ; vi. 195 ; ix. 110 ; 
X. 42 ; xi. 314. 

Neri, St. Philip, vi. 217. 

Nettle in friend's side, ii. 199. 

New, not the old, is the divine gift, 
xii. 80. 

New comers, vi. GO. 

New England, Notes of Life and 
Letters in, x. 305-347. 

Reformers, iii. 237-270. 

New Englander, vii. 69 /, 95 ; x. 125 ; 
xii. 88, 94, 96, 98. 

New Hampshire, ix. 23, 72. 

New phrase, illusion in, viii. 185. 

News, the poet the only teller of, 
viii. 33. 

Newspapers, xi. 206 ; 268 ; poor man's 
college, vii. 28 ; we hate to be de- 
fended in, ii. 114 ; vii. 28 ; each 
believes his own, iii. 196 ; vii. 75 ; 
influence, v. 247 ; notice in, viii. 188 ; 
reading, vii. 188 ; viii. 279; xi. 
206 ; sponge for oblivion, xii. 71 ; 
not to be suppressed, iv. 183. 

New Testament, x. 115 /; xi. 390. 
See, also, Bible. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, desire to avoid 
new acquaintance, vii. 11 ; agitation 
in calculation, viii. 211 ; alternation 
of employment, 144; and Bacon, 
V. 236 ; childless, xii. 110 ; discov- 
eries, x. 130 ; eccentricity, iv. 96 ; 
Leibnitz and, vii. 152 ; unity and sim- 



GENERAL INDEX. 



321 



plicity of his life, 175 ; xii. 31 ; 
memory poor, 72 ; method, vi. 75 ; 
misunderstood, ii. 59 ; on naviga- 
tion, xi. 395 ; old age, vii. 304 ; but 
one, 279 ; his opinion of sculpture, 
ii. 339 ; on Terence, viii. 58 ; uni- 
verse made at one cast, 213 ; whitest 
soul, xi. 237 ; quoted, i. 99 ; viii. 
95. 

New York, vii. 35 ; viii. 301 ; xi. 423. 

Niagara Falls, vi. 153 ; made by differ- 
ence of level, viii. 302 ; swim against, 
xii. 11. 

Nibelungenlied, ii. 103. 

Nicholas, Czar, i. 355 ; x. 462. 

Nicknames, effect of good nicknames, 
iv. 60. 

Niebuhr, Barthold, return of his 
genius, viii. 267 ; quoted, 46 ; xi. 
279 ; xii. 67. 

Nile, the fountains of, iii. 260, 262 ; xii. 
15. 

NiMETOLLAH, Seyd, Song OF, ix. 249/. 

Nineteenth century, age of tools, vii. 
151/. 

No, inability to say no, x. 296 ; val- 
iant, iii. 93. 

No-government reform, i. 204 ; v. 272. 

Noah's ark, poet's mind a, iii. 43. 

Noblesse oblige, viii. 218. 

Nobility, a new, i. 364/; iii. 43 ; vi. 
Ill ; viii. 99, 200 ; x. 44, 59, 63, 65. 

Noise, iii. 134 ; vi. 148. 

Nomadism, ii. 25.^'. 

Nominalist and Realist, iii. 213-236. 

Nonconformity, ii. 51, 57 ; iii. 99, 104 ; 
iv. 163. 

Non-resistance, iii. 243 ; v. 272 ; xi. 
194. 

Nonsense, refreshing, vi. 255 ; xii. 50. 

Noon, terror of, ii. 108. 

Norsemen, v. 58 ff; vii. 271. 

North, Christopher, see Wilson, John. 

Northcote, James, vi. 177. 

Northiugton, Lord, quoted, xi. 164. 

Northman, quatrain, ix. 240. 

Nose, vi. 174, 277. 

Not-me, i. 10. 

Nothing beneath you, vi. 110 ; nothing 
fair alone, ix. 14 ; nothing for no- 
thing, the rule of the universe, vi. 
212. 

Nouns of intellect, the facts in nature 
are, vi. 288 ; in nature, viii. 15, 20. 

Novalis quoted, iv. 266. 

Novelists, vii. 206 ; xii. 49. 

Novels, ii. 164 ; 340 ; vi. 183/; vii. 
202 #; viii. 80; x. 141; xii. 232 #. 
See, also, Fiction. 

Now, ask the, i. 158 ; ii. 16 ; vii. 167, 
171. 



NuUifiers, solitary, iii. 243. 

Numbers, power of, i. 185, 263 ; ii. 86, 
276. 

Nun, story of, vi. 217. 

Nun's Aspiration, ix. 217 /; x. 373, 
note. 

Nursery, common, x. 343 ; tales, om- 
nipresent, viii. 178. 

Obedience, ii. 69, 132 ; vi. 229 ; x. 84, 
200 ; xii. 105. 

Obelisk, vii. 57 ; xii. 191. 

Objections, iii. 62, 248. 

Objects, i. 41, 204; iii. 77 ; x. 194. 

Obscurity, from numbers, xi. 326. 

Obstacles, the conditions of, various, 
vi. 242 ; viii. 140, 219. 

Occupation, choice of, ii. 132/. 

Ocean, i. 195/; v. 32, 54; vii. 282; 
there is enough of it, viii. 134 ; of 
life, i. 273 ; of thought, ii. 71 ; ui. 
60, 75. See, also, Sea. 

October, i. 25 ; iii. 163 ; woods, vii. 
281 ; viii. 271 ; ix. 240. 

Ocular dialect, vi. 173. 

Odin, V. 61, 64, 92 ; vii. 168, 224 ; viii. 
61. 

OSdipus, iii. 185. 

Oersted, Hans C, viii. 211 ; x. 177. 

Oestrum, New England, x. 227. 

Office, pubUc, iii. 208 ; xi. 167, 331. 

Olaf, King, vi. 197 ; vii. 268 ; quoted, 
V. 63. 

Old, corrupts, vii. 170; nothing old 
but mind, viii. 202 ; reverence for, 
vii. 275; viii. 170; is for slaves, i. 
141. 

Old Age, vii. 295-316 ; the only dis- 
ease, ii. 297/; vi. 44; x. 135. 

Old-school gentlemen, viii. 100. 

Olympians exchange snuff-boxes, iii. 
110. 

Olympic games, ii. 193 ; viii. 227. 

Omar, Caliph, i. 239. 

Omar Khayyam quoted, vi. 11 ; viii. 
231 ; ix. 247. 

Omission, art of, vi. 279. 

Omnipotence, attribute, x. 322. 

Omnipresence, ii. 99 ; iii. 47 ; x. 192. 

Omniscience, ii. 263, 270 ; x. 177. 

One, eternal, ii. 253 ; ever-blessed, 70. 

One-hour rule, iii. 235. 

Opaline, nature of beauty, ii. 170 ; iii. 
178. 

Open secret of the world, x. 228. 

Opinions, confession of character, vi. 
214 ; falsehood shows first as indif- 
ference, X. 209 ; few, iii. 51, 235, 
256 ; not final or organic, iv. 168 ; 
vi. 55, 136, 193; vii. 221; x. 110, 
194, 220, 226; xi. 106; should be 



322 



GENERAL INDEX. 



native, ii. 51 ; vii. 214, 261 ; viii. 97, 

287; X. 136,220; xi. 197,209, 354; 

public, iii. 97; vi. 37, 149, 156; xi. 

106, 207, 280; react, u. 106, 138; 

variety of, an advantage, xi. 360. 
Opium, distilled into all disaster, iii. 

51 ; iv, 28. 
Opportunities, the atoms of which the 

world is made, viii. 294. 
Opposition, is opportunity, i. 146 ; ii. 

52 ; vii. 96. 
Optical, life practical, not optical, x. 

255. 
Optimism, ii. 117, 129, 215 ; vu. 291 ; 

viii. 134 ; x. 336 ; xii. 57. 
Oracles, never silent, vii. 288 ; viii. 

210 ; ix. 10 ; xii. 0. 
Oration, public, a gag, ii. 135, 144. 
Orator ; see Eloquence, i. 37, 103 ; ii. 

135, 330 ; vii. 52 ; viii. 34, 292 ; ix. 

238 ; x. 55, 208 ; xi. 294 ; xii. 70 ; his 

first qualification is manliness, viii. 

123. 
Orbit, our orbit is our task, iii. 269. 
Order, equivalent to vast amounts of 

brute force, vi. 85 ; ix. 65 ; x. 81. 
Orestes, iii. 83 ; xii. 262. 
Organ, silent, chants requiem, ix. 129. 
Organic actions and opinions, vii. 13, 

251 ; X. 440 ; xi. 209 ; 301 ; xii. 29. 
Organization, i. 100 ; iii. 176 ; vii. 

240 ; viii. 133 ; creates our facts, vi. 

295. 
Orientalism, v. 245; vii. 226/; x. 

171. r. 

Originality, iv. 181, 187, 189/; v. 13; 

vii. 122, 275; viii. 170, 191/; xii. 

104. See Quotation. 
Ornament, vi. 275. 
Ornithology, vi. 207. 
Orpheus, viii. 06 ; x. 83, 443. 
Osman, iii. 149. 
Ossiau, viii. 279. 
Otherness, iv. 11, 49. 
Others, working for, xii. 28. 
Ought, meaning of, i. 121, 125. 
Our own, we must be, ii. 201 ; find, iii. 

229. 
Ourselves, all things allowed to, iii. 79. 
Over -estimation, nobody forgives 

over-estimation of themselves, xii. 

27. 
OvEK-SouL, The, ii. 249-278. 
Owen Richard, xii. 3, 70 ; quoted, viii. 

52. 
Owen, Robert, v. 246 ; x. 326/; quoted, 

vi. 135. 
Owning, some men born to, vi. 96. 
Oxj'gen, X. 72. 
Oyster, mends his shell with pearl, ii. 

113. 



I Pack-saddles of thought, ii. 290. 
Pagan faculties, xii. 55 ; moralists, x. 

115 ; world, iii. 236. 
Paganism in Christianity, x. 110. 
Page, William, xii. 45. 
Pain, superficial, ii. 125 ; vii. 250 ; xii. 

270 ; due to interference of organi- 
zation, vi. 295; memory sifts out, 

xii. 76. 
Paint, ground into, iii. 229 ; iv. 45 ; 

great is, vi. 290; x. 60; can make 

none stick but our own, xii. 49. 
Painter, paints the ideal, ii. 313/; iii. 

327. See, also, Artists. 
Painting, ii. 210, 328, 330, 332. See, 

also, Art. 
Pairing-off, vi. 237. 
Pairs, thoughts go in, vii. 217 ; ix. 

109. 
Palestine, value in universal history, 

iv. 129 ; xi. 153. 
Palm, man grows like, iv. 12. 
Pan, ix. 309 ; i. 196 ; iii. 44, 171 ; 

ix. 28, 56, 04, 67, 200, 279 ; xii. 32. 
Pancrates, fable, x. 17. 
Pandora-box of marriage, vi. 299. 
Panic, vii. 248 ; xii. 32" 200. 
Parables, everything spoken in, viii. 

71. 
Para coats, iii. 53. 
Paradise only for good men, ii. 229; 

viii. 148 ; xi. 222. 
Parasites, huge animals nourish huge 

parasites, vi. 63. 
Parents and children, vi. 218 ; vii. 

103 ; X. 136, 142. 
Parental wit, v. 293. 
Paris, attractions of, xii. 89. 
Park, The, L\. 78. 
Pakker, Theodore, xi. 265-274 ; 

X. 222, 225, 322, 324, 340, 344, 353. 
Parliament, British, x. 64 ; xi. 158. 

See, also. House of Commons, House 

of Lords. 
Parlor, and kitchen, vii. 232 ; soldiers, 

ii. 75. 
Parnassus, v. 231 ; viii. 54, 225 ; x. 

281, 314. 
Parody, homage of, iii. 141. 
Parry, Sir Edward, quoted, v. 69. 
Parsimony of providence, iv. 175. 
Parsons, Antony, v. 207 ; vii. 258. 
Parthenon, ii. 20/; ix. 16. 
Partialists, iii. 68 ; iv. 48 ; need of, iii. 

233 ; vi. 245 ; xi. 352. 
Particulars, iii. 180 ; iv. 176 ; vi. 153. 
Parties, political, i. 300 ; ii. 55 ; iii. 

61 ; vi. 203, 244 ; vii. 244 ; x. 307 ; 

xi. 242, 328, 331, 398, 402, 400; xii. 
51, 166; ordinarily parties of cir- 
cumstance, not of principle, iii. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



323 



200 ; necessity of, 199 ; 228 ; iv. 1G4 ; 
vi. ()2, S)3. 

Parts, lovo of, ii. 207, 218 ; iii. 223. 

Parts of speech, metaphors, i. 38. 

Pascal, Blaise, vii. 208 ; viii. 217 ; xii. 
153. 

Pass for what we are, ii. 59 ; x. 50. 

Passions, iv. 13G ; x. 91 ; are educators, 
vi. 242, 245 ; powerful spring, 24G ; 
vii. 305/; viii. 15, 2G2. 

Passover, Jewish, xi, 14. 

Past, The, ix. 221 /; influence 

of, i. 80, 93 ; ii. 6G, 81 ; viii. 193 ; x. 
243, 307 ; involved in tlie present, 
158, 255, 279, 284, 288 ; ii, 120 ; iii. 
G9 ; vi. 125, 223 ; viii. 190 ; unalter- 
able, ix. 221 ; xii. G4, 73, 80. 

Past and Present, Carlyle, xii. 237- 
248. 

Pastoral visits, i. 143. 

Patience with tlie delays of Nature, i. 
114, 2G4, 334 ; vii, 135 ; x. 149, 152/, 
437 ; xi. 22G ; xii. 47. 

Patnios of thouglit, iii. 104. 

Patriarchal government, i. 354. 

Patriarchs, action of the, iii. 107. 

Patriotism, i. 349; v. 140; vii. 30; 
viii. 1G5; xi. 328, 420. 

Pattern, men all of one, vii. 221. 

Patty-pan enthusiasm, vii. G3 ; x. 343. 

Paulding, Commodore, xi. 255. 

Pauline de Viguier, vi. 281 /. 

Pauperism, i. 353. 

Pay, always, ii. 109. 

Peace, nothing can bring you peace 
but yourself, ii. 87, 247 ; in proxim- 
ity to war, vi. 72; xi. 194.//'; 300; 
peace-parties, the cant of, vii. 245 ; 
the peace principle does not involve 
the loss of manhood, xi. 197, 300. 

Peacock, wit, ix. 55; the American 
eagle must be leas of a peacock, xi. 
412, 

Pedantry, ii. 131 ; painted pedantry of 
the stage, iv, 117, 197 ; vi, 133 ; viii, 
IGO/, 

Peddlers, vi. 141. 

Peeping, Nature hates, iii. 02. 

Pendulum, law of mind, viii. 145. 

Penetration, the fatal gift of, vi. 181. 

Pensioner, man a, ii. 252. 

Pentecost of conversation, ii. 289. 

People, you cannot march without the, 
vi. 70, 

Pepper-corn aims, vi. 199; informa- 
tions, i. 37. 

Pepys, Samuel, v. 107 ; quoted, vii. 
84. 

Perceforest, ii. 37. 

Perception, converted into character, 
i. 211 ; to our involuntary percep- 



tions a perfect faith is due, ii. G5 ; 
viii. 25; accurate, 214/; iii. 135/; 
vii. 281 ; x. 145 ; outruns talent, 283 ; 
145; involves will, xii. 34, 3G, 38, 
40. 

Perdition to be safe, ix. 243 ; x. 98, 

Perfection, i. 258 ; iii, 228, 

Performance, difference of law and 
performance, i. 173 ; iii. 257 ; iv. 
171 ; V. 212, 291 ; vi. 127, 20G, 228 : 
vii. 274, 27G. 

Perhaps, the great, viii. 17G. 

Periodicity of evils, vi. 242. 

Permanence, a word of degrees, ii. 
282/; iv. 177; our dehght in, viii. 
317. 

Perpendicularity, ii. 217. 

Perpetual Forces, x. G9-89. 

Per.secution, an endeavor to cheat 
Nature, ii. 115; vi. 248, 

Perseverance, vi. 262 ; viii. 268 ; x. 
G7. 

Persian Poetry, viii. 223-251. 

Persians, architecture, ii. 25; copy- 
right, viii. 2.39; day of lot, 226; 
moved by poetry, 227 ff ; proverbs, 
vi. 94, 307 ; viii. 88 ; temperament 
in extremes, 22G ; self - centred, 
102. 

Persistency, i, 337 ; iii, 43 ; vi, 262 ; x. 
80. 

Personal ascendency, 1, 251 ; iii, 121, 
197; vi. 59, 182; vii. 77, 80/, 

Personality, in conversation, see under 
Conversation ; dose of, xii. 49 ; en- 
ergy, X. 2G4 ; xii, 53 ; miracles, x. 
192/; power, silence destroys, ii, 
319 ; of universe, iv, 93, See, also, 
Bias. 

Personification, viii. 27, 55. 

Persons, of tlie age, i. 252 ; attraction, 
249 ; iii. 225 ; conunon nature, ii. 
2G0 ; tie of persons and events, vi. 
42 ; f.aith in, i. 140 ; acquaint us with 
the imjjersonal, ii. 2G0 ; government 
is to protect, iii. 193 ; love's world, 
ii. 105; new, 187; tlieir influence 
impossible to fix, iii. 197-218 ; and 
property, Yd'i ff; regard lor, ii. 2G0 ; 
soul knows no, i. 129 ; are the world 
to persons, 250. 

Perspective of time, i. 114 ; of persons, 
ii. 11 ; iii. 3G, 173 ; vi. 39. 

Perspiration of age, vi. 44. 

Pessimism, ii. 117 ; vii. 291 ; viii. 134. 

Pestalozzi quoted, i, 113, 207. 

Peter, the mould of Peter, i, 316 ; vii. 
170 ; xii. .53. 

Peter Schlemihl, x. 25. 

Peter's dome, ix. IG. 

Peter's Field, ix. 302/. 



324 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Petroleum, viii. 137. 

Phalanstery, England a, v. 37. 

Phalanx, Fourier's, i. 361 ; Hi. 251 f; 
X. 330, 335 ; xii. 44. 

Phantasms, iii. 138 ; vi. 301, 304. 

Pharos of hope, x. 61. 

Phenomenal, the pied and painted im- 
mensity, ii. 189. 

Phenomenon, nature is, i. 54 ; viii. 
19/. 

Phi Beta Kappa, addresses, i. 81 ff; 
viii. 197/; poem, ix. 312. 

Philadelphia, situation of, v. 43. 

Philanthropy, i. 266 ; ii. 52 ; xi. 205. 

Pliilip II. of Spain, anecdote of, i. 
371. 

Phihp of Macedon, iii. 257 ; vii. 74. 

Phillips, Wendell, vi. 78. 

Philoctetes, ii. 30. 

Philouic inspiration, viii. 174. 

Philosopher, ix. 314. 

Philosophers, not at all times philoso- 
phers, i. 285 ; above audience, viii. 
206 ; all days holy to, ii. 17 ; Greek, 
X. 291 ; do not joke, viii. 153 ; know 
only laws, xii. 37 ; are failed poets, 
viii. 58 ; xii. 13 ; world large enough 
only for themselves, vii. 13. 

Philosophy, name used to gild crimes, 
ii. 73 ; defining is, iv. 49 ; not to be 
distilled, i. 66 ; cardinal facts, 49 ; 
characteristic of modern literature, 
xii. 180 ; new, quotes old, viii. 171 ; 
Plato on, iv. 60 ; taught by poets, i, 
59 ; xii. 13 ; price paid for, vi. 133 ; 
problem of, i. 59 ; rules nations, 
viii. 67 ; use of, xii. 6. 

Phooion, ii. 245. 

Phoenicians, xii. 24. 

Phoenixes, iv. 37 ; x. 100, 

Phosphorus, statue, iii. 28. 

Photometers, we are, ii. 157. 

Phrenology, iii. 56, 224; vi. 14, 38, 
219; vii. 106,273; x. 16,318. 

Physicians, view of religion, iii. 55// 
of mankind, vi. 134 ; viii. 160. 

Physics, axioms of, translate the laws 
of ethics, i. 38, 44. 

Physiognomy, v. 51 ; vi. 213, 219 ; vii. 
106. 

Piano in log-hut, vii. 25. 

Pickerel-weed, i. 24 ; ix. 163. 

Pictorial, all is, vi. 50. 

Picture-alphabet, Swedenborg's, iv. 
114, 123. 

Picture-books, child's, vii. 103 ; the 
world, man's, viii. 15, 27. 

Picture-coUector, iii. 65. 

Pictures, ii. 332, 336/; iii. 59 ; vii. 126, 
290 ; viii. 163 ; in streets, ii. 332. 
See, also, Art, Pamtings. 



Picturesque, hunting for, iii. 171. 

Pied and painted immensity of the 
phenomenal, ii. 189. 

Pied Piper, vii. 67 ; viii. 178. 

Pierre d'Auvergne quoted, viii. 61. 

Piety of the Puritans, i. 210 ; x. 199 ; 
xii. 95 ; an essential condition of sci- 
ence, viii. 217. 

Pilgrim Fathers, what brought them 
here, i. 208/; ix. 174. tiee, also, 
Plymouth. 

Pilgrim, the scholar a, i. 154. 

Pillows of illusion, vi. 297. 

Pilot, beauty the pilot of the young 
soul, vi. 273, 275 ; we are never 
without a pilot, x. 189. 

Pindar, ii. 20, 30; vii. 56; x. 242; 
quoted, vii. 66 ; viii. 192, 220, 238, 
279. 

Pine,'i. 103 /; ii. 59; ix. 15/, 43, 
45/, 48/. 144, 103, 198. 

Pinfold, ii. 79 ; x. 107. 

Pistareen providence, vi. 12. 

Pitiers of themselves, vi. 252. 

Pitt, William, vi. 146, 174 ; xi. 169, 

Place, safe in our own place, i. 295 ; 
ii. 49 ; x. 50. 

Plagiarism, iv. 43, 216 ; viii. 183. See, 
also, Quotation. 

Plague, depression of spirits develops, 
vi. 251. 

Plain dealing, vi. 257. 

Plain living and high thinking, vi. 
148; vii. 113. 

Plainness, English, v. Ill ; vi. 146. 

Planes of life, vii. 292. 

Planters, Southern, xi. 135, 148, 155. 

Plants, clock of summer hours, i. 24 ; 
iii. 44; imperfect men, 174 ; iv. 152 ; 
xii. 22. 

Plato, iv. 39-87 ; all may think 

as, ii. 9 ; anticipates all, vii. 190 ; 
arrogance, iv. 144 ; banquet, vii. 
191/; on boys, vi. 134 ; on children 
of gods, iii. 107 ; Christianity in, 
viii. 172 ; as parish minced-meat, x. 
221 ; on citizen's duty, vii. 64 ; defi- 
nitions, i. 59 ; iii. 34 ; in England, 
V. 220 /, 280 ; an enthusiasm, x. 
289 ; on exercise, viii. 265 ; grand- 
eur, ii. 322 ; images, vii. 190 ; inspi- 
ration, viii. 260 ; literary, iv. 74 ; 
gives a feeling of longevity, ii. 256 ; 
modernness, iv. 46 ; on poetry, i. 
73 ; ii. 37 ; vii. 189 ; viii. 192, 260 ; x. 
286 ; prayer, xii. 213/; purple an- 
cient, 247; reading, i. 94; ii. 146; 
iii. 222, 246 ; reading him wrapped 
in a cloak, vii. 280 ; on rhetoric, 66 ; 
school, ii. 287 ; secret doctrine, 139 ; 
self-reliance, 47 ; Timaeus, vii. 163 ; 



GENERAL INDEX. 



325 



truth, viii. 1G9 ; value, i. 151) ; vii. 
189 ; works, beat, 190 ; women, xi. 
338 ; writing a barbarous invention, 
xii. 71 ; quoted, viii. 109. 

Platonists, iv. 4'2, 85 ; v. 2U ; vii. 193. 

Playmates of man, vi. 89. 

Plea.se, thinking to, viii. 287. 

Pleased, too easily, vii. 121 ; viii. 69. 

Pleasure, ii. 9G, 100, 102, 215 ; vi. 44, 
92, 295 ; ix. 12 ; x. 59, 290 ; xii. 105, 
117. 

Plotinus, ii. 237 ; vii. 193 ; 430 ; quoted, 
iv. 95 ; X. 2G7. 

Ploughed into history, i. 12G. 

Plus^ condition, vi. 59, G2, GO, 72. 

Plutarch, x. 275-304 ; on Alex- 
ander, vi. 241 ; xi. 181 ; sacred ani- 
mals, X. 19 ; boys' friend, vi. 29G ; 
vii. IIG ; our debt to him greater than 
to all the ancient writers, ii. 234 ; 
Essays, vii. 191 ; heroes, ii. 84, 234 ; 
vii. 191 ; on inspiration, viii. 2G9 ; 
on jests, 157 ; on matter, x. 2G7, 290 ; 
in modern literature, xii. 179 ; Mor- 
als, vii. 191 ; oracles, 251 ; Pericles, 
vi. 75 ; on prediction, viii. 2G9 ; on 
superstition, x. 19 ; Timoleon, ii. 
127 ; xii. 1.'59 ; value, i. 15G ; ii. 234 ; 
vii. 182 ; xii. 177. 

Plymouth Colony, xii. 92. 

Pocket, memory not a, xii. G5. 

Poem, made by its argument, not by 
its metres, iii. 15, 223 ; is poet's 
mind, ii. 22; the world a, iv. IIG, 
120. 

Poems, names which are, v. 57. See 
Poet, Poetry. 

Poet, The, iii. 7-45 ; ix. 253-278. Also, 
Merlin, ix. lOG-110. 

Poet-priest wanted, iv. 209. 

Poet, Poets : no deep advantage, iii. 
2(J6 ; all men, i. 1G4 ; analysis, xii. 
13 ; authority, i. 201 ; man of beauty, 
iii. 10 ; belief in the importance of 
what he has to say, 180 ; iv. 181 ; 
viii. 192, 217; cheerful, iv. 205; 
coming, xii. 199 ; the complete man, 
iii. 11; as craftsman, vi. 151; all 
days holy to, ii. 17 ; detaches, 330 ; 
dream, 218 ; electricity of, xii. 22G, 
241 ; early English, vi. 198 ; favor- 
itism shown to, X. 257 ; five great, 
ix. 191 ; passes for a fool, iii. 44 ; 
their genius a larger imbibing of the 
common heart, ii. 270 ; Milton as to 
their habits, xii. 159 ; heart in the 
right place, vii. 288 ; need not be 
hermits, i. 1G9; bad husbands, vi. 
112 ; idealism, i. 5G ; imagery, vi. 
289 ; jealousy of present objects, iii. 
184 ; sense of justice, x. 179 ; laud- 



scape owned by, i. 14 ; lawgivers, ii. 
218 ; liberating gods, iii. 33-35 ; love 
the test of, ix. 243 ; men-making, 
viii. 278 ; the trainer, iii. 20 ; deals 
with things nearest, i. 78 ; viii. 193 ; 
and philo.sopher, i. 59 ; xii. 13 ; 
gives a platform outside of daily 
life, ii. 291 ; iv. 91 ; does not too 
much respect his writing, vii. 174 ; 
rhapsodist, i. 203 ; fabulous picture 
of society, iii. 108 ; must not spin 
too fine, ii. 196 ; universal language, 
i. 103; a beautiful woman is a 
practical poet, vi. 281 ; xi. 343 ; 
worldliness, x. 252. 

Poetry, essential aim, v. 243; Arab 
fondness, viii. 228; is ascension 
into a higher state, iii. 28 ; beauty, 
223 ; vii. 49 ; and fact, books its in.spi- 
ration, viii. 279 ; and civilization, x. 
393 ; cleanses, viii. 278 ; of columns, 
vi. 279 ; creation in, viii. 42 ; modern 
English, V. 238/, 2i2J/'; essential 
qualities, xii. 220 ; to the wise, fact 
is, i. 78; of fancy, ii. 104; found, 
not made, vii. 53 ; must be good 
sense, xii. 226 ; best history is, i. 
73 ; feeling of the infinite in, xii. 
184 /; source of its inspiration, 
iii. Ill ; speaks to the intelligent, 
viii. 238 ; in common life, iii. 220 ; 
magic influence, xii. 177 ; of man- 
ners, vi. 183 ; measure, of poetic 
power, xii. 39 ; mystery, ii. 171 ; 
free necessity, viii. 53 ; pain changed 
to, xii. 271 ; Pindar's rule, viii. 238 ; 
and prudence, ii. 218; refreshes, 
256 ; is seeing that the bodies 
of things pass away and their 
spirit subsists, viii. 22 ; revival, i. 
84; simplicity, viii. 122; of society, 
xii. 227 ; success, ii. 171 ; in a chest 
of tea, viii. 266; Thoreau's, x. 
442 ; shows unity by variety, iv. 56 ; 
unwritten, i. 162 ; vi. 183 ; viii. 184 ; 
of vice and disease, xii. 227 ; in 
whistle, vii. 280 ; xii. 40 ; every 
word necessary, 53 ; for the young, 
X. 141 ; sempiternal youth of, iv. 80. 
See, also, Verse. 

Poetry and Imagination, viii. 7-75. 

Poetry, Persian, viii. 223-251 

Poisons, our medicines, vi. 245; xii. 
51. 

Point of view, change in, i. 55/. 

Polarity, i. 99, 111 ; ii. 94 ; iii. 90 ; 
viii. 12. 

Pole star, in the constellation Harp, 
i. 84. 

Police, in citizen's clothes, vi. 165, 
212/; xii. 65. 



326 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Politeness. See Behavior, Manners. 

Political economy, v. 97, 102 ; based 
on the laws of nature, vi. 100, 10«, 
214 ; vii. 137, 147 ; viii. 40 ; xi. 402. 

Politicians, iii. 209; vi. 237; x. 50; 
xi. 208, 401, 

Politics, iii. 40, 91, 189-211 ; ix. 230 ; 

i. 240; ii. 8(5, 248; iii. 243; 

vi. 18, G3, 66; vii. 155, 159, 244; 
viii. 165, 220 f; ix. 230; xi. 190, 
329 J\ 351, 353, 397 /, 402, 403 ; 
institutions cannot be voted in and 
out, iii. 192. 

Polycrates, ii. 108. 

Pompeii, tombs at, viii. 309. 

Poor, the, i. 20, 229, 241 ; their fancies 
of the rich, iii. 168, 183; vii. 112, 
115 ; xi. 408. See, also, Poverty. 

Pope, Alexander, i. Ill ; ii. 269 ; v. 
242 ; quoted, v. 94, 99 ; viii. 264. 

Popguns, i. 103. 

Poppies, nature's, iv. 28 ; viii. 280. 

Popular government, vi. 63. 

Popular standards, ii. 73. 

Popularity is for dolls, vi. 156. 

Population, vi. 237 ; vii. 145//'. 

Porcelain, nature's, iii. 127 ; x. 37. 

Porphyry quoted, vi. 156, 235. 

Porter, Jane, novels, xii. 234. 

Portraits should idealize, ii. 327. 

Positive, choose what is positive, vii. 
289 ; xii. 56. 

Possibilities, the great realities, i. 212 ; 
ii. 75, 286 ; viii. 133 ; iv. 36. 

Posterity, we build for, i. 354. 

Post-offlce superseded, i. 364 ; meter 
of civilization, vii. 26. 

Postpone, we are not to wish and post- 
pone, iii. 63. 

Posture-master, nature the best, viii. 
82. 

Potencies, men made of, viii. 133. 

Potomac, xii. 88. 

Pound, always a pound, iii. 196 ; x. 
40. 

Poverty, consists in feeling poor, vii. 
115; viii. 162; demoralizes, vi. 90; 
tlie ornament of greatness, ii. 240 ; 
gymnastics, iii. 244 ; vi. 240 ; vii. 
117 ;x. 128 ;xi. 222. 

PowKH, vi. 53-81 ; needs concen- 
tration, xii. 53 ; can be generous, xi. 
421 ; the first good, viii. 258 ; luxury 
of, xi. 148 ; practical, vii. 240 ; xii. 
44; a certain quantity belongs to 
a certain quantity of faculty ; he 
who wants more must truckle for 
it, vii. 253 ; x. 50 ; xi. 168 ; makes 
its own i>lace, x. 50; the essenti.al 
measure of right, ii. 70, 87, 90, 111 ; 
iii. 69, 99, 267 ; iv. 175 ; vi. 92. 



Practice, and theory, i. 95, 211, 238; 
iv. 170, 253; v. 235; x. 149, 226, 
256, 266 ; is nine tenths, vi. 78. 

Practical men, xii. 9. 

Praise, less safe than blame, ii. 114, 
274 ; iii. 75, 102, 105 ; vi. 226, 234 ; 
ix. 116 ; xi. 271 ; the foolish face of, 
ii. 56 ; shows us what we have not, 
209. 

Prayer, ix. 299. 

Prayers, xii. 212-219. 

in all action, ii. 77 ; adornment 

of man, i. 205 ; answers to, vi. 12 ; 
not brave or manly, ii. 76 ; church, 
i. 137 ; a church, xi. 222 ; a con- 
descension, V. 211 ; defined, ii. 76 ; 
false prayers, 76; of former, 77; 
granted, a curse, vi. 49; itera- 
tion in, 55 ; Jewish, v. 214 ; over 
poor land, xi. 403; beginning of 
literature, viii. 55 ; love prays, ii. 
176; of others, hurtful, 276; to 
ourselves, granted, vi. 43 ; are 
prophets, 262; of Quakers before 
meals, viii. 85 ; Dr. Ripley's, x. 362 
/; show lack of self-reliance, ii. 76 ; 
sliipmaster's, x. 19 ; study of truth, 
i. 77 ; that do not uplift, but smite 
us, 135 ; unmanly, ii. 76 ; disease of 
will, 78 ; of youth, iii. 193. 

Preacher, The, x. 207-228; i. 

133-148 ; ii. 56 ; vii. 93 ; viii. 118. 

Preaching, the oflBce the first in the 
world, i. 134; do not preach, ix. 
244; good preaching, vii. 93; xii. 
238. 

Pre-cantations, things in, iii. 29. 

Precedent, love of, v. 109: vii. 275; 
xi. 279. 

Precisians, iii. 136. 

Premonitions, viii. 216, 293. 

Presence, doctrine of, i. 206, 212 ; vii. 
215. 

Presence of mind, vi. 76 : viii. 22, 123 : 
xii. 72. 

Present, the present infinite, ii, 266, 
278 ; and past, i. 284 ; ii. 67 ; iii. 66, 
102, 164; vi. 223; vii. 18, 170, 284, 
286 ; viii. 194 ; ix. 69, 242, 288 ; xii. 
80. See, also, Time, To-day. 

Presentiments, i. 154 ; ii. 205, 277 ; x. 
15 ; xi. 223. 

Pretension, i. 173, 179; ii. 150; iii. 
100, 128, 130 ; v. Ill ; vi. 144. 

Pretty people tiresome, vi. 284. 

Price, the highest price for a thing is 
to ask for it, ii. 109 ; everything Ims 
its price. 111 ; iii. 52 ; vi. 105, 107 ; 
vii. 107 ; X. 51. 

Pride, ii. 107, 112: economical, vi. 
111. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



327 



Priestcraft, ii. 32. 
Priesthood, x. 258. 
Prince Rupert's drop, the American 

Union a, xi. 410. 
Principles, i. 144, 238, 263, 2C5, 304 ; 

iii. 96, 200 ; v. 88 ; vii. 33 ; xi. 105, 

199/, 398; xii. 109. 
Printing, xii. 71. 
Prisoners, v. 8 ; vii. 305 ; x. 81. 
Prisons, every thought a prison, ii. 

316 ; iii. 36, 55. 
Privacy of storm, ix. 42. 
Private ends and uses, viii. 325 ; x. 85, 

94, 96. 
Prizes, of virtue, iv. 136 ; x. 61 ; the 

high prize of life, vi. 253. 
Problem, The, ix. 15-17. 
Proclus, reading of, iii. 222 ; quoted, 

19, 34 ; vi. 287. 
Production, in nature and thought, ii. 

338 ; iv. 91 ; vi. 85. 
Profession, choice of, ii. 132 /. See 

Occupations, Trades. 
Profits that are profitable, ii. 146. 
Profligacy, vi. 110. 
Progenitors, qualities of, potted, vi. 

15. 
Progress, i. 159, 204, 249, 283 ; ii. 117, 

268, 297 ; vii. 36 ; viii. 330 ; xi. 175, 

179, 216. 
Projectile impulse in nature, iii. 177, 

185. 
Prometheus, ii. 33 /, 103 ; ix. 157, 

168. 
Promises, ii. 222 ; iii. 55, 182 ; iv. 176 ; 

viii. 321 ; ix. 81. 
Property, iii. 193-198; in its present 

tenures, degrading, i. 261, 289 ; iii. 

195 ; vi. 98, 104, 151 ; vii. 106 ; x. 

128, 183 ; xi. 184 ; good always moral, 

1. 43 ; iii. 221, 249 ; iv. 146 ; covers 

great spiritual facts, ii. 11 ; iii. 193 ; 

V. 87, 140, 159; x. 334; xi. 402; 

timid, i. 223, 228 : ii. 85, 108. 
Prophets, iii. 180, 235; viii. 153,258; 

xii. 8, 42. 
Proportion impossible to men, iii. 223 ; 

X. 170. 
Propriety, vi. 43; Gibraltar of, v. 

110. 
Proprium of Swedenborg, viii. 290. 
Prose, in Englishman, v. 110 ; God 

speaks not in, viii. 17 ; of life, iii. 

221 ; of nature, ii. 327. 
Prospects, i. 70-80. 
Prosperity, man not born for prosper- 
ity, i. 209; ii. 108/; x. 60; a rush 

of thoughts the only prosperity, 

viii. 258. 
Protection, iii. 244; vi. 214/, 247/ 
Protestants, x. 424 ; xii. 104. 



Proteus, i. 48 ; ii. 11, 35 ; iii. 172 ; iv. 

50, 117, 150, 200 ; vi. 292, 297. 
Proverbs, the wisdom of nations, i. 

38; ii. 105/; iii. 220; quoted, i. 86; 

ii. 224 /, 294 ; iii. 84 ; iv. 218 ; vi. 

208, 244, 251 ; viii. 110, 176. 
Providence, terrific benefactor, i. 122 ; 

iii. 267 ; v. 214 ; vi. 12, 35, 194 ; x. 

195 ; xi. 225, 230, 314, 424 ; playing 

providence, v. 290 ; xii. 28, 41, 51 ; 

particular providence, x. 360; pat- 
ronizing providence, xii. 51. 
Provocation, not instruction, is what 

we receive from others, i. 126, 131, 

157. 
Prudence, ii. 207-227 ; i. 242 /; 

iv. 146, 226, 235 ; is concentration, 

vi. 74 ; low, i. 178 ; ii. 174, 234, 237, 

293/; should coincide with poetry, 

218 ; virtue of the senses, 210 ; vii. 

108/; X. 21. 
Psyche, x. 178. 
Public, an eternal, ii. 145. 
Public opinion, i. 367 ; vii. 274 ; x. 40 ; 

xi. 197, 207, 404. 
Public speaking, i. 161 ; ii. 135, 145 ; 

iii. 181 ; v. 125 ; vi. 78 ; vii. 64. 
Public spirit, iii. 204; viii. 100; x. 

94. 
Public worship, i. 139/. 
Pudency of friendship, vi. 259 ; of life, 

iii. 70. 
Pugnacity, interest in, xi. 184. 
Pulpit, i. 135 ; x. 113, 222, 224. See, 

also, Clergy, Preacher. 
Pulses, man lives by, iii. 70 ; vi. 33, 58 ; 

viii. 49. 
Pump, fetched with dirty water, if 

clean is not to be had, vi. 62. 
Pumpkins, men ripen like, iii. 234. 
Punctuality, iii. 136 ; iv. 226, 235 ; vii. 

109 ; X. 170. 
Punishment and crime grow from 

the same root, ii. 100 ; iv. 81 ; xii. 

65. 
Purgatory, x. 105. 
Puritans, i. 140, 320 ; x. 234, 359 ; xii. 

165 ; we praise them because we do 

find in ourselves the spirit to do the 

like, 110. 
Purpose as necessity, ii. 74 ; iii. 223 ; 

vi. 254 ; vii. 96, 239. 
Purse, great depend not on, vii. 112. 
Pursuit, heaven in, iii. 185. 
Push, aboriginal, iii. 177 ; vi. 46. 
Pyrrhonism, ii. 131, 296. 
Pythagoras quoted, vi. 149 ; xii. 212. 

Quackery in education, x. 152. 
Quadruped, age, vi. 158; 240; iv. 165; 
law, xi. 214. 



328 



GENEBAL INDEX. 



Quake, if I quake, what matters it at 

what ? iii. 97. 
Quakers, iv. 134 ; viii. 85, 292 ; xi. 138, 

346. 
Qualities abide, iv. 37 ; vi. 15. 
Quarantine, of calamities, xi. 226 ; of 

nature, iii. 165 ; of society, i. 301. 
Quarry of life, i. 99, 247. 
Quatrains, ix. 238-244. 
Queen of Sheba in Persian poetry, 

viii. 229. 
Questions, courage to ask, viii. 94. 
Quetelet, vi. 15 ; quoted, 22, note. 
Quietist, rapture, ii. 265. 
Quiucy, President, vii. 297 ; viii. 271 ; 

xii. 103, 111. 
Quintilian quoted, xii. 68. 
Quotation and Originality, viii. 167- 

194 ; ii. 67 ; iv. 44 ; vii. 275. 

Rabelais, vi. 240 ; xi. 347, 367; quoted, 
viii. 176. 

Races of men, v. 47-74, 137 ; vi. 13, 21, 
39, 46; xi. 34, 172/. 

Radiance of personal charm, ii. 172 ; 
vi. 286. 

Radicalism, is idealism, i. 301 ; iii. 
258 ; vi. 18. See, also, Conservative 
and Radical. 

Ragged front of life, ii. 234. 

Rag-merchant, nature a, vi. 249. 

Railroads, a benefaction vastly exceed- 
ing any intentional philanthropy, vi. 
243 ; i. 19, 55 ; not for their build- 
ers, 354 ; nature adopts, iii. 23 ; how 
built, vi. 93 ; aesthetic value of, 142, 
243 ; vii. 154 ; viii. 204 ; x. 217 ; xii. 
249. 

Rain, the hermitage of nature, i. 169 ; 
ii. 215. 

Rainbow, ix. 80, 81, 112, 166, 208, 281; 
the eye makes, vi. 50. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, iv. 19, 164. 

RambouiUet, Hotel de, vii. 229; xi. 
346. 

Rameau, Diderot's, viii. 163. 

Raphael, ii. 217, 337 ; viii. 163, 208. 

Rarey, John S., viii. 258. 

Rashness, no heaven for, ii. 192. 

Rate, man sets his own, ii. 143. 

Rat and mouse revelation, vi. 200. 

Reaction, law of, ii. 123 ; iv. 81. 

Reading, i. 89-95; vii. 185-188, 210; 
viii. 170, 279; x. 141, 154; read 
proudly, ii. 12, 63, 141, 155, 263 ; iii. 
222 ; viii. 187. See, also. Books. 

ReaUsts, i. 153 ; iii. 132 ; vi. Ill ; viii. 
103. See, also, Nominalist and 
Realist. 

Reality, elemental is moral sentiment, 
i. 274 ; iii. 52, 58, 130, 218, 226 ; iv. 



144 ; v. 116, 180 ; we are to be face 
to face with, x. 204, 459 ; xi. 222 ; 
xii. 50 ; the first thing that man de- 
mands of man, iii. 130. 
Reason, i. 33 ; and sense, 54, 102, 125, 
128, 176, 280 ; iv. 27, 170 ; vi. 91 ; vii. 
53, 171 ; infinite, i. 167 ; vii. 95 ; 
deals with wholes, not with degrees 
or fractions, viii. 51. 
Receptivity enriches, i. 200 ; ii. 311 ; 
vii. 284; viii. 280, 295; x. 83; de- 
mands outlet, iii. 54. 
Recesses of life, i. 236. 
Recluse, the, his thoughts of society, 

iii. 227, 230 ; vii. 17. 
Rectitude, wisdom does not reach a 
literal rectitude, i. 145, 205, 286 ; ii. 
117; iii. 98, 158; genius takes its 
rise from, iv. 139 ; vi. 207 ; safe- 
guards of, X. 86. 
Red Jacket quoted, vii. 170, 309. 
Red slayer, ix. 170. 
Redeemer, man a Redeemer, i. 306 ; 

xii. 198. 
Reed, Sampson, quoted, xii. 76. 
Refinement entails loss of substance, 

ii. 84. 
Reflection, ours the age of, i. 108 ; 

thinking prior to, ii. 305, 308. 
Reformation, licentiousness treads on 

the heels of, ii. 33. 
Reformer, Man the, i. 215-244. 
Reformers, New England, iii. 237- 

270. 
Reforms must construct, iii. 61, 100, 
248 ; iv. 163 ; dangers, x. 119 ; must 
begin with education, vi. 9, 136 ; 
not to be pursued as end, i. 204, 248, 
256, 271 ; ii. 255, 295 ; facility of, 
in America, xi. 411 ; must begin at 
home, iii. 248 ; pedantry of, 249 ; 
the soul of, i. 263 ; first a thought 
in one man, ii. 10. 
Refrain in songs, viii. 50. 
Regrets are false prayers, ii. 77 ; the 

voices of debility, xii. 253. 
Relations, personal, ii. 142 f; iii. 53 ; 
vii. 19; of things, 175, '231, 284; 
viii. 88. 
Relative and absolute, iv. 144. 
Religion, every act should be reli- 
gious, vii. 128 ; ages, xi. 333 ; Amer- 
ican, X. 203 ; antidote to the com- 
mercial spirit, xii. 98 ; base tone, ii. 
93 ; changes, viii. 311 ; x. 105, 113, 
199, 209, 214 ; charm of old, i. 209 ; 
xi. 269 ; of the present day child- 
ish, vi. 199, 228 ; glozes over crime, 
X. 114 ; a crab fruit, vi. 205 ; not to 
be crystallized, v. 215 ; the flower- 
ing of culture, vi. 196 ; xii. 98 ; in 



GENERAL INDEX. 



329 



daily life, iv. 118 ; x. 191 ; decay, vi. 
196, 200, 204 ; x. 112, 196, 210 ; xi. 
333 ; iu disguise in the barbarous 
mind, v. 207; vi. 198; xii. 94; dis- 
putes, ii, 225 ; x. 307 , emancipator, 
xii. 105; is emotion in presence of 
universal mind, x. 190 ; endogenous, 
V. 215 ; enthusiasm, ii. 264 ; essence 
lost by reliance on institutions, i. 
303 ; and ethics, 62 ; vi. 199 ; x. 
203; everywhere, xi. 388; will not 
fall out, vi. 196 ; false were once 
true, X. 104 ; disuse of forms, 
108 ; of future, 201 ; geographical, 
195 ; growth alarms, 118, 214 ; 
formal religion a hoax, viii. 158 ; x. 
303 ; xi. 271 ; truly human, 333, 
391 ; not to be imported, x. Ill ; in- 
dividualism in, 118 ; inexpugnable, 
vi. 204 ; x. 117 ; influence, i. 124 ; v. 
206 ; xii. 99 ; must be intellectual, vi. 
229 ; an iron belt, x. 196 ; liberal, 
116, 196 ; morbidness, iv. 95 ; nar- 
rowness, X. 107 ; xi. 388 ; national, 
v. 205 ; X. 106 ; natural, i. 62 ; x. 
200 ; need, 117 ; to say there is no 
religion is like saying there is no 
sun, vi. 204 ; estimated by numbers, 
ii. 276 ; object, x. 214 ; not occa- 
sional, vii. 128 ; opinions, viii. 201 ; 
X. 215 ; great men its patrons, iv. 
10 ; is sometimes pew-holding, x. 
220 ; power, i. 124 ; v. 206 ; xii. 99 ; 
primeval, x. 280 ; and property, i. 
302/; is the public nature, vi. 196 ; 
quoted, X. HI ; reaction, 196 ; the 
most refining of aU mfluences, xii. 
99 ; of revelation, i. 9 ; revivals, x. 
268 ; revolution in, vi. 200 ; viii. 
311 ; parodied by ritual, 158 ; science 
the source of revolution, x. 317 ; 
search for, vi. 195 ; xi. 333 ; depen- 
dent on seasons, iii. 55 ; secret, v. 
220 ; sects, x. 113 ; and self-depen- 
dence, xi. 389 ; shallowness, x. 220 ; 
surface-action, 216 ; symbolism in, 
leads to error, iii. 38 ; test, x. 220 ; 
theatrical, v. 219 ; time-serving, i. 
302/; of to-day, vi. 204 ; traditions 
losing hold, x. 113, 209 ; universal, 
vi. 196; X. 215; xi. 388; cannot 
rise above votary, vi. 196 ; war in 
name of, xi. 180 ; welcomed, vii. 
283 ; and woman, xi. 345 ; of world, 
391. See, also, Christianity, The- 
ology. 

Remedial forces, ii. 121 ; x. 149. 

Remember, you shall not, iii. 69. 

Reminiscence, Plato's doctrine of, iv. 
84, 94. 

Remoteness of persons, ii. 188. 



Renan, E., quoted, viii. 104 ; x. 235. 
Renovator must himself be renovated, 

iii. 248. 
Renunciations of the poet, iii. 44. 
Repetitions, no repetitious in the 

world, ii. 82. 
Reporter, the writer as, iv. 251. 
Repose, choose between truth and, ii. 

318. 
Representatives, what they must rep- 
resent, X. 52,^'. 
Republic, Fortune of, i. 393-425. 
Republics, iii. 202 ; xi. 400/. 
Repudiation, you cannot repudiate but 

once, i. 367. 
Reputations, decline of, i. 254 ; iv. 

36 ; unaccounted for, iii. 89 ; do not 

be impatient of false reputations, 

269 ; slavery to, vii. 158, 307. 
Resemblances, nature full of, i. 48/; 

ii. 20 ; iv. 119 ; viii. 13. 
Residuum, unknown, in every man, ii. 

286. 
Resistance, sweet satisfaction of, xii. 

107. 
Resources, viii. 131-148 ; i. 146, 

154 ; viii. 199 ; x. 72, 78 ; xii. 23. 
Respect, men respectable only as they 

respect, x. 197. 
Responsibility, need of, xi. 199, 273. 
Rest, viii. 267 ; xii. 55 ; by alternation 

of employment, viii. 144; motion 

and, iii. 173, 186. 
Restlessness, our education fosters, 

ii. 81 ; viii. 26 ; x. 227, 234. 
Results, respect for, v. 212. 
Retirement need not be unsocial, i. 

323; vi. 149; vii. 215 ; x. 227. 
Retribution, what is, ii. 99 /, 117 ; 

X. 186, 190 ; xi. 225. 
Retz, Cardinal de, quoted, vi. 175, 

285 ; viii. 186. 
Revelation, not at an end, i. 132 ; dis- 
closure of the soul, ii. 263, 265, 

276 ; vi. 239 ; x. 114 ; persons on the 

eve of a, vi. 129. 
Reverence, for the past, ii. 57; a 

great part of friendsliip, 200; due 

from man to man, 63 ; vii. 20, 239 ; 

for what is above us, x. 198. 
Revision of our manner of life, ii. 152. 
Revivals, religious, ii. 265 ; vi. 200 ; 

x. 268. 
Revolutions come from new ideas, i. 

271 ; ii. 10 ; x. 238, 242, 309 ; xi. 164, 

188, 320, 398, 412. 
Reward, cannot be escaped, ii. 100 ; iii. 

268 ; vi. 220, 223 ; viii. 287 ; x. 190. 
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, quoted, viii. 

275. 
Rhea, To, ix. IS/". 



330 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Rhetoric, power to detach and mag- 
nify, ii. 330 ; iv. 60 ; vi. 279 ; vii. 66 ; 
X. 164, 315 ; xii. 119. 

Rhodora, The, ix. 39. 

Rhyme, in nature, ill. 29 ; iv. 107 ; vi. 
49 ; vii. 56 ; viii. 47-58 ; ix. 53, 255 ; 
xii. 207. 

Rhythm of nature, iv. 135. 

Rich men, i. 228, 233, 240 // ii. 12 ; 
who is rich? iii. 98, 148, 168, 183, 
198; iv. 10, 59; vi. 114, 247, 252; 
vii. 115, 137, 163; viii. 98; x. 48; 
the rich man is he in wliom the 
people are rich, vi. 96. See, also, 
Riches, Wealth. 

Richard of Devizes, quoted, vi. 198. 

Riches, i. 226, 237, 298 ; man needs 
to be rich, vi. 85-88. See, also, Rich 
People, Wealth. 

Richter, Jean P. F., quoted, ii. 170; 
xi. 102. 

Rider, a good, the mark of, vi. 138 ; 
X. 60. 

Ridicule, shun, viii. 96 ; as remedy, 
143 ; peculiar to man, 151. 

Right, meaning, i. 31 ; measure of, 
318 ; ii. 52, 70, 112 ; iii. 62, 204 ; x. 
88, 95, 185, 190 ; liberates, xi. 175, 
218, 408. 

Rights, human, discussion of, iii. 67 ; 
equality, 193 ; higher, 209, 243. 

Ripley, Ezra, D. D., x. 355-370. 

Ripley, George, x. 321 /. 

RituaUsm, vi. 199// x. 105. 

River, taught to make carpets, xi. 
421 ; of delusions, iv. 25 ; emblem- 
atic, i. 32, 283 ; man's impiety 
towards, vii. 240 ; perpetual gala, 
1. 25 ; good-natured, vii. 31 ; intel- 
lect, a river from an unknown 
source, ii. 252 ; iii. 10 ; makes own 
shores, viii. 235 ; xii. 15. 

Rivers, Two, ix. 213. 

Roads, air, xii. 249; American rage 
for, i. 343 ; through solidest things, 
iii. 232 ; vent for industry, vii. 26 ; 
meters of civilization, x. 173 ; xi. 
423; mended with diamonds, viii. 103. 

RoBBiNs, Rev. Chandler, Hymn at 
Ordination of, ix. 192 /. 

Robespierre, eloquence, viii. 126. 

Robin Hood, xii. 220. 

Rokmson Crusoe, as model of writing, 
X. 426. 

Rochester, Earl of, quoted, vii. 226. 

Rockets, stars of heaven packed into, 
xii. 9. 

Rock, of ages, ix. 295 ; x. 70 ; xii. 47 ; 
teaches firmness, i. 48, 283 ; made of 
gases, vii. 139 ; x. 72, 258. 

Rodney, Admiral, v. 69. 



Rogues, in politics, vi. 07, 202 ; under 
the cassock, x. 222 ; the choice of 
sensible persons, xi. 406. 

Roman, buildings, i. 233 ; conversa- 
tion, vii. 229 ; education, iii. 245 ; 
and Greek character, viii. 300. 

Roman Catholic Church, influence, 
V. 207 ; X. 195, 219 ; peculiar rites, 
xi. 9/, 17; 346. 

Romance, the root of, ii. 242, 325; 
the life of man the true romance, 
iii. 270; vii. 14,17,207. 

Romantic era not past, i. 108. 

Romany Girl, ix. 195/. 

Rome, Caesar called his house, i. 79 ; 
charm, xii. 87 ; pictures, ii. 336 ; 
sculpture galleries, vii. 54. 

Rome, Written at, ix. 301/. 

Romilly, Sir Samuel, v. 65, 89/, 96, 
note, 97, 107, 150, 214. 

Rose color, soul has no, ii. 272. 

Roses, language, i. 7 ; ix. 31, 111 ; 
otto of, X. 169 ; lives in the present, 
ii. 67 ; renews its race, viii. 44 ; red, 
through thee, ii. 181 ; regal acts 
like, 127 ; rival of, 39 ; Saadi's in- 
toxication from, iv. 137 ; shames 
man, ii. 67. 

Rose-water to wash negro white, vii. 
157. 

Rotation, the law of nature and of 
man, iii. 227, 231 ; nature's remedy, 
iv. 23, 167 /. 

Rothschild, vi. 75, 103. 

Rousseau, Jean Jacques, iii. 260. 

Routine, acts of, ii. 298 ; power of, vi. 
77, 203 ; x. 150 ; xii. 54. 

Rowing and backing water, iii. 253. 

Rubbish of nature conceals useful 
results, i. 44. 

Rubies, ix. 188. 

Ruby, chalk becomes, ix. 247. 

Rude people, how reached, vi. 166. 

Rufllan smoothed, ii. 96. 

Ruins, men are, vii. 106. 

Rulers, physiognomy of, vi. 285 ; viii. 
80, 220 ; natural, x. 120 ; potency of 
good, li. 296. 

Rules, easy, x. 150 ; not final, 217. 

Rum, good to tax, vii. 34. 

Rush, Dr. Benjamin, vii. 269. 

Rushworth, John, quoted, v. 291. 

Ruskiu, John, quoted, viii. 318. 

Russell, Lord William, i. 27. 

Ruts of custom, i. 238. 

Rydal Mount, v. 21, 279. 

Saadi, ix. 114-118 ; iv. 137 ; vii. 

199; viii. 65; quoted, iv. 206; v. 
30; vi. 94, 283; vii. 299; viii. 118; 
xi. 222. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



331 



Sabbath, made unlovely, i. 135 ; jubi- 
lee of the world, 147, 209, 303 ; iii. 
239; vii. 162; x. 351. See, also, 
Sunday. 

Saccharine principle, predominance 
of, ii. 215, 296. 

Sachem, head of, ii. 20. 

Sacred Band, i. 361 ; x. 309 ; xi. 384. 

Safety bought by ourselves, viii. 102. 

Sagas, Norse, v. 59, 61 ; vii. 243. 

Sahara, is man's fault, x. 329: xii. 
85, 

Sailors, life of, v. 33 ; vii. 248. 

Sainte-Beuve quoted, viii. 93. 

St.-Evremond, Charles, x. 333. 

St. Just, Autoine L., quoted, viii. 85. 

St. Pierre, Bernardin de, quoted, x. 
178. 

St. Simon, C. H., Comte de, iii. 250 ; 
quoted, viii. 137. 

St. Vitus's dance, x. 216, 255. 

Saints, the only logicians, i. 186 ; a 
slight taint of burlesque attaches to, 
335 ; iii. 80 ; iv. 128 ; self-respect of, 
viii. 296 ; not good executive officers, 
vi. 67. 

Salad grown by electro-magnetism, iii. 
187. 

Saliency, habit of, divine effort in man, 
viii. 72 ; xii. 220. 

Salisbury Cathedral, v. 67, 270/. 

Salisbury Plain, v. 262, 267. 

Sallust quoted, i. 26. 

Salt, truth a better preserver than, 
viii. 323. 

Saltations of thought, i. 174 ; iii. 70 ; 
viii. 72. 

Sample men, iv. 79. 

Samson, Abbot, x. 336; xii. 239. 

San Carlo, iv. 166. 

San Salvador, wee, ix. 201. 

Sanborn, F. B., verses on Samuel 
Hoar, X. 405. 

Sanctity, iv. 92. 

Sanctorius, vi. 128. 

Sanctuary, of heart, 1. 265 ; house a, 
vii. 127. 

Sand, George, iv. 265 ; v. 34 ; vi. 164 ; 
vii. 203#; quoted, 205; viii. 274. 

Sandemauians, feet-washing, xi. 17. 

Sanity, what is, vi. 263. 

Sannups, ix. 125 ; xi. 54. 

Santa Croce, church, xii. 141. 

Saranac, ix, 159. 

Sarona, viii. 67. 

Sarsena, v. 263. 

Satellites, be not a satellite, i. 91 ; hu- 
man arts satellites to nature, vii. 44. 

Saturn, i. 280. 

Saturnalia, transcendentalism the 
Saturnalia of faith, i. 320. 



Sauce-pan, Macaulay reduces intellect 
to, V. 235. 

Saurin, Jacques, quoted, x. 317. 

Savages, converse in figures, i. 32, 34 ; 
advantages, ii. 83 ; vi. 71 ; arts, viii. 
204. 

Savant, everybody knows as much as 
the savant, ii. 308 ; a pedant, vii. 
174 ; xii. 7. 

Savariu, Brillat, viii. 145. 

Savoyards, who whittled up their pine- 
trees, i. 98. 

Saxe, Marshal, saying, vii. 248. 

Saxon race, citizens, xi. 247 ; demo- 
cratic, V. 75; despair, x. 86; in 
England, v. 54, 75/; face, 68 ; hands 
of mankind, 77 ; leaders, vi. 89 ; vii. 
270; friendly to liberty, xi. 175; 
merchants, vi. 89 ; moral sentiment, 
V. 294 ; precision, 224 ; privacy, x. 
343 ; Protestants, v. 50 ; sturdi- 
ness, 168 ; training, vi. 36 ; type, v. 
57 ; woman of, xi. 345 ; workers, v. 
75. 

Sayer and doer, iii. 12/. 

Saying, not what you say, but what 
you are, is heard, viii. 95. 

Scandinavians, v. 55, 67, 133. See, 
also, Norse, Norsemen. 

Scaurus, Marcus Aemilius, vi. 186. 

Scenery, influence, ii. 140 ; iii. 169 ; vi. 
153. 

Scheherezade, vii. 71 ; x. 82. 

Schelling quoted, v. 230 ; vi. 18, 

Schiller, iii. 89 ; quoted, vi. 241 ; viii. 
177, 313. 

Schisms of 1820, x. 307. 

Schlegel quoted, x. 164. 

Scholar, The, x. 247-274 ; i. 81 ; 

115, 154-178 ; needs action, 96 ; 
aims, iii. 255 ; asceticism, i. 170, 
180 ; awkwardness, viii. 82 ; bifold 
Ufe, ii. 220 ; and books, vii. 107, 187 ; 
X. 274 ; born too soon, 232 ; brave, 
i. 104 ; a caudle, vii. 16 ; viii. 294 ; x. 
260 ; sacrificed to be courtier and 
diner-out, xii. 8 ; discipline, i. 167- 
178; duties, 101, 104; viii. 218 ; x. 
236, 241, 250, 273 ; effeminacy, vii. 
259 ; egotism, xii. 7 ; enthusiasm, 
X. 259 ; xii. 21 ; every man a, x. 
238 ; xi. 106 ; victim of expression, 
iii. 68 ; failures, i. 151 ; faith, 237 ; 
and farming or gardening, vi. 112 ; 
gifts, iii. 256 ; x. 262, 265, 269 ; and 
giddy girl, ii. 143 ; wants gossips, 
vii. 232; habits, viii. 280; x. 240; 
and heredity, vi. 157 ; favorite of 
Heaven, i. 151 ; bringer of hope, 
185 ; idealist, viu, 218 ; x. 243, 252 ; 
xii, 241 ; carrier of ideas, 238 ; in- 



332 



GENERAL INDEX. 



dependent of his times, x. 237 ; rep- 
resents intellect, whereby man is 
man, iv. 252 ; viii. 286 ; x. 262 ; irri- 
tability, vi. 133; labor, viii. 294, 
323 ; X. 260 ; a leader, i. 86 ; in what 
his learning consists, vii. 171 ; stands 
for liberty, x. 236 ; xi. 227 ; a liter- 
ary foundation, vii. 107 ; in a lum- 
ber-camp, X. 459 ; is man thinking, 
i. 86 ; manliness, viii. 124 ; accepts 
poverty and solitude, i. 101, 162, 
175 ; X. 273 ; men of the world, i. 
95, 101 ; vi. 133, 176 ; x. 266 ; pro- 
phetic function, i. 174 ; x. 232 ; re- 
sources, i. 154-161 ; ridicule of, iv. 
253 ; his secret, viii. 296 ; self-cen- 
tred, i. 102, 113 ; self-denial, ii. 318 ; 
as speaker, viii. 123 ; his subject, i. 
161-167 ; his superiorities, x. 231 ; 
patron of new thought, i. 276 ; power 
over thoughts, xii. 40 ; wariness, vii. 
235 ; wealth an impediment, viii. 
280 ; the weather fits his moods, vii. 
162 ; has wiser men around him, 
230 ; not to defend wrong, x. 236 ; 
victory, 239. See, also, Literary 
Ethics, (md below. 

Scholar, The American, i. 81-115. 

School-boys, vi. 60 ; vii. 116 ; ix. 145 ; 
X. 138. 

School-girls, x. 82 ; xii. 78. 

School-house, old, vii. 162. 

Schools. See Education. 

Schopenhauer, viii. 134. 

Science, aids to man, ii. 343 ; vi. 158, 
209 ; aim, i. 10 ; finding analogy, 87 ; 
at arm's length from its objects, vi. 
267 ; attraction, i. 73 ; beginnings of, 
iv. 48 ; empirical, i. 70, 77 ; effect 
on man, vi. 270 ; English, v. 240 ; 
lessons should be experimental, iii. 
245 ; eye of, viii. 71 ; destroys fic- 
tions of the church, x. 317 ; formulas 
of no value for any but the owner, 
270 ; generalizations, iv. 78 ; half 
sight of, i. 73 ; lacks a human side, 
iv. 10 ; vi. 268 ; debt to imagina- 
tion, viii. 16 ; a search for identity, 
vi. 297 ; viii. 13 ; jealous of theory, 
vi. 270 ; miracles, viii. 197 ; con- 
tinuation into morals, vi. 209 ; mo- 
tive, 269 ; shows the genesis of 
man, viii. 13 ; its motive the ex- 
tension of man into nature, vi. 269 ; 
pedantry, viii. 161 ; and poetry, 
iii. 25 ; viii. 558 ; of sciences, iv. 
62 ; index of self-knowledge, iii. 20 ; 
viii. 44, 210 ; sensual and super- 
ficial, iii. 19 ; coincidence witli 
virtue, iv. 81 ; wonder the seed of, 
vii. 152. 



Sciences, ccJrrelation, viii. 211 ; like 
sportsmen, iv. 62. 

Scipio, ii. 241; Scipionism of, 82. 

Scot, paying, ii. 108 ; vi. 90. 

Scotcli, estimate of wealth, x. 235. 

Scott, Walter, xi. 371-377 ; boys' 

delight, vi. 296 ; ix. 206 ; and Byron, 
viii. 300; novels, iii. 143; poetry, 
V. 242 ; xii. 186, 227 ; power, x. 56, 
296 ; and Wordsworth, v. 281 ; 
works, i. 167 ; ii. 38, 233 ; iii. 144 ; 
X, 431 ; quoted, iii. 130 ; vi. 287 ; x. 
10. 

Scougal, Henry, x. 196, 218 ; xii. 95. 

Screens, iii. 131. 

Scribatiousness, vii. 201. 

Scriblerus Club, Berkeley at the, iii. 
259. 

Scripture, Greek, ii. 20, 28, 282 ; laws 
of, 171, 330, 332/, 339; iii. 28, 41, 
106, 133, 223; iv. 186; vii. 47, 53/; 
teaches manners, vi. 153 ; moral 
element, 290 ; vii. 58. See, also, Art. 

Scriptures, fragmentary, i. 148, 201 ; 
V. 209, 215. See, also, Bible. 

Scythe, sound of, in the mornings of 
June, ii. 216. 

Sea, spray from antediluvian, v. 52 ; 
attraction, 29 ; vii. 164 ; bellowing, 
ix. 14 ; takes Boston in its arms, 
182 ; cemetery, v. 32 ; chiding, ix. 
207 ; road of civilization, vii. 25 ; 
dread of, v. 29, 32 ; drinking, iv. 
109 ; drop outweighs, ii. 81 ; drowns 
ship and sailor like a grain of dust, 
vi. 35 ; and English empire, v. 
35; life on, 31 ; masculine, 32 ; 
mastery, vi. 36, 89 ; viii. 291 ; might, 
V. 32 ; poet, lord of, iii. 45 ; Britain's 
ring of marriage, v. 43 ; thorough 
bass of, viii. 58 ; of circumstance, 
ii. 116 ; of delusion, vii. 97 ; genius 
a diver in, i. 157 ; of knowledge, vi. 
257 ; educates the sailor, vii. 25 ; of 
science, iii. 42 ; of thought, i. 51, 
326 ; ix. 122 ; time, passing away as, 
i. 142 ; ii. 30. See, also, Ocean. 
Sea-shell, record of the animal's 
life, i. 284 ; England's crest, v. 109. 

Sea-shore, ix. 207 ff; i. 163; iv. 

56 ; vii. 25 ; viii. 273/; xii. 85. 
Seasonable tilings, vii. 218. 
Seasons, i. 24, 34 ; religious sentiment 

dependent on, iii. 55. 
Seceder from the seceders, i. 288. 
Secession, peaceable, xi. 300. 
Second sight, ethical, iv. 82 ; vi. 289 ; 

viii. 26; pseudo-spiritualist, x. 26, 
Secret, of God, vi. 207 ; of success, 

234 ; of world, iii. 16, 231 ; x. 228. 
Secret societies, xi. 410. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



333 



Secrets, all told, ii. 99 ; vi. 213 ; not 
shown except to sympathy and 
likeness, ii. 138/; iv. 154; vii. 228. 

Sectarianism, makes false, ii. 56 ; 
science destroys, viii. 201 ; xii. 6. 

Sects, narrowing, x. 218; xi. 392; 
shifting, X. 113, 118 ; xi. 389. 

Securities, insecure, vi. 106. 

Seeds, i. 34 ; iii. 179 ; iv. 38 ; produce 
their Uke, vi. 120, 222; vii. 101; 
X. 248 ; xii. 269. 

Seeing, we see what we make, ii. 140 /, 
242 ; iii. 80, 170 ; viii. 44 ; and do- 
ing, vi. 74 ; xii. 49. 

Seeker, endless, i. 179 ; ii. 269, 297. 

Seeming and being, ii. 151 ; x. 33, 
50. 

Seen teaches us of the unseen, ii. 139 ; 
viii, 320. 

Seer, i. 94 ; a sayer, 133. 

Selden, John, quoted, vii. 16 ; x. 109. 

Self, aboriginal, ii. 64 ; fleeing from, 
80 ; is God in us, i. 130, 273 ; con- 
dition of our incarnation in a self, 
160 ; insist on, ii. 81 ; leave to be 
one's, vii. 217. 

Self-absolution, ii. 74. 

Self-accusation, ii. 296 ; iii. 257. 

Self-adapting strength, xii. 270. 

Self-centred, x. 2.52. 

Self-command, i. 48 ; viii. 85 ; x. 153. 

Self-communion, x. 227. 

Self-consciousness, vii. 10. 

Self-content, iii. 129. 

Self-control, vi. 187 ; viii. 86, 123; 
X. 153. 

Self-counsel, ii. 247. 

Self-culture, iv. 274. 

Self-defence, xi. 194. 

Self-denial, i. 209 ; ii. 318 ; vi. 149 ; 
xii. 252. 

Self-estimates, iii. 257. 

Self-government, iii. 209. 

Self-gratulation, iv. 29. 

Self-heal, iii. 186. 

Self-healing, i. 76. 

Self-help, the only help, i. 234 ; 77 ; 
xi. 172, 182, 389. 

Selfish, all sensible people are, iv. 168 ; 
vi. 261. 

Selfishness, i. 222, 234; our history 
the history of, 240 ; ours makes oth- 
ers', 266 ; self-punishing, iii. 202 ; vi. 
129 ; X. 65 ; xii. 181, 184, 252 ; root 
of, vi. 130. 

Self-knowledge, ii. 40 ; viii. 44 ; x. 15. 

Self-love, vi. 130 ; vii. 239. 

Self-poise, iii. 133 ; vi. 195. 

Self-possession, ii. 224 ; vi. 152, 178. 

Self-recovery, i. 70 ; iii. 82. 

Self-eeuance, ii. 45-87 ; i. 265, 



305, 316 ; ii. 320 ; iii. 128 /, 247 ; 
vi. 178, 182; vii. 13, 275; x. 59, 
62, 66, 84, 141, 198, 243; xi. 198/, 
222, 405, 416. 

Self-respect, i. 102, 369; ii. 49, 153; 
iii. 133 ; v. 142, 280 ; not measured 
by number of clean shirts, vi. 235 ; 
viii. 286, 291 /, 296 ; x. 40, 87 ; xi. 
389. 

Self-sacrifice, attractiveness of, i. 122 ; 
vii. 239 ; viii. 104, 325 ; ix. 243. 

Self-similar woods, ix. 163. 

Self-sufficingness, iii. 98; viii. 101. 

Self-trust, the reason of, i. 101, 104, 
106, 130, 142, 156, 198 ; ii. 236/; iii. 
79, 247 ; vii. 276, 278 ; x. 20, 40, 67. 
See, also, Self-Reliance. 

Seneca quoted, viii. 268 ; x. 294. 

Senses, pleasure severed from needs 
of character, ii. 100 ; despotic at 
short distances, i. 54, 153, 175 ; iii. 
135 ; education, vi. 204 ; fool of, iii. 
178 ; and imagination, vi. 287 ; im- 
prison us, viii. 28 ; overpowering in- 
fluence, ii. 256 ; interference, vi. 
295 ; life of, iii. 234 ; men of, iv. 146 ; 
ministry of, xii. 34 ; give represen- 
tations only, 311 ; secret, 29 ; skep- 
tics, vii. 140 ; collect surface facts, 
viii. 28 ; not final, i. 311 ; prudence 
the virtue of, ii. 210. 

Sensibility, is all, iii. 11, 169 ; vii. 278 ; 
fountain of right thought, 283/, 287, 
309 ; viii. 212 ; x. 83 ; xii. 39. 

Sensible men, rare, viii. 287/. 

Sensualism, ii. 100, 219 ; iii. 57 ; vii. 
117 ; X. 147, 149 ; xi. 413. 

Sentiment, measure of action, ii. 147 ; 
Americans deaf to, i. 237 ; beauty 
depends on the sentiment it inspires, 
vi. 284 ; x. 57, 261 ; is color, vii. 283 ; 
consolation of life, viii. 102 ; conver- 
sation excludes, vii. 218 ; counter- 
feit, viii. 103 ; illumination, vii. 279 ; 
largest is truest, iv. 133 ; law, ii. 
99; the inside aspect of life the 
means of its expression, x. 261 ; 
power, 164; xii. 110; moral, see 
Moral sentiment ; realm, x. 84 ; re- 
ligious, xi. 222 ; advantages of re- 
nouncing generous sentiment, iv. 
218 ; sail of the sliip of humanity, 
339 ; starving, x. 58 ; thought im- 
bosomed in, 179 ; never loses its 
youth, 226. 

Seutimentalism, viii. 103 ; nature no 
sentimentalist, vi. 12. 

Sepulture, forms of, as the history of 
religion, viii. 308. 

Sequestration, by intellect, ii. 321; iii. 
104. 



334 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Seraphim, love most, ii. 321. 

Serenity the charm of manners, iii. 
134 ; vi. 281 ; x. 58. 

Sermons of the early times, x. 107. 

Servants, false relations to, i. 240 ; vi. 
260/. 

Service, being served, an onerous busi- 
ness, iii. 157 Jf; none direct, iv. 
13/; services do not join us to oth- 
ers, ^but only likeness, iii. 159 ; al- 
ways remunerated, vi. 220 ; x. 186 ; 
truth serves all, ix. 105 ; x. 202 ; the 
virtue of all beings, xi. 277, 422/. 

Sets in society, viii. 89. 

Settled, the wish to be, ii. 298, 318. 

Seventeenth century writing, v. 225. 

Seward, William H., xi. 308. 

Sex, iv. 124 ; vi. 59 ; xi. 346, 355 ; two 
sexes in the English mind, v. 68. 

Sexual attraction, vi. 129 ; vii. 306. 

Seyd, vi. 265 ; ix. 21, 249. 

Shadows, the world the shadow of the 
soul, i. 96 ;• ii. 189 ; iii. 77 ; viii. 27, 
162; institutions shadows of men, 
ii. 62 ; point to the sun, 147; rhymes 
to the eye, viii. 48. 

Shah Nameh, viii. 229. 

Shakers, vi. 67, 195, 226 ; flowers, ix. 
86. 

Shakespeare, Willlam, iv. 179-209; 

ix. 190, 243; advantages, iv. 

184 ; liis sentences aerolites, 199 ; 
Ariel, viii. 46 ; autograph, iii. 65 ; 
Delia Bacon on, viii. 188 ; best-bred 
man, iii. 144 ; common sense, viii. 
9 ; creative power, 47 ; debt to oth- 
ers, vi. 60; dialogue, iii. 144; in 
earnest, vii. 56; without egotism, 
xii. 192; without effort, vii. 174; 
and EngUsh history, 189 ; equal- 
ity in all his work, viii. 73 ; xii. 46 ; 
exactitude of mind, v. 223; most 
expressive man, x. 168 ; Falstatf , 
viii. 154, 237 ; generalizations, v. 
229, 231 ; called out German genius, 
xii. 180; and Goethe, viii. 09; xii. 
193 ; humanity, ii. 270 ; Imogen, v. 
107; made up of important passages, 
viii. 36 ; mfluence, i. 92 ; best known 
of men, iv. 200 ; not known to his 
time, ii. 34 ; viii. 185 ; Lear, 32, 
34 ; gives a feeling of longevity, ii. 
256 ; unmeasured, ix. 200, 243 ; chief 
merit, iv. 20 ; and Milton, xii. 151, 
157 ; miraculous, viii. 261 ; imperial 
muse, i. 57 ; power of subordinating 
nature to purposes of expression, 
57 ; organ of mankind, ii. 105 ; no 
non-resistent, i. 100 ; xi. 198 ; per- 
ception of identity, iv. 22 ; person- 
ality, xii. 171 ; Platonist, iv. 85 ; use 



of Plutarch, x. 280 ; knows poverty, 
vi. 247 ; popular power, x. 56 ; xi. 
367 ; realism, viii. 31 ; richness, iii. 
43 ; keenness of sense, xii. 225 ; on 
study, vii. 188; style, iv. 20; and 
Swedenborg, 92 ; Tempest, i. 58 ; 
unique, ii. 82, 128 ; universality, 
12 ; value, i. 156 ; viii. 209 ; versatil- 
ity, 73 ; a voice merely, xii. 151 ; 
well - read, vi. 136 ; wisdom, gol- 
den word, iv. 197 ; xii. 188 ; hard 
to distinguish his works, i. 92 ; iv. 
43 ; achievement as a youth, vii. 
303 ; quoted, i. 39, 58/; ii. 191, 238, 
337 ; iv. 80, 197 ; v. 127 ; vi. 245; vii. 
188 ; viii. 147 ; x. 47/, 107 ; xi. 303. 

Shakespeare of divines, ix. 17. 

Shakespearian, be a, iv. 33. 

Shams in building, vi. 276. 

Sharpe, Granville, xi. 136 /, 141; 
quoted, 165. 

Shelley, Percy B., viii. 29; xii. 186; 
quoted, viii. 309. 

Shell-fish, growth, i. 284 ; u. 22, 120 ; 
iii. 29, 173 ; iv. 154. 

Shenstone, William, quoted, viii. 92. 

Sheridan, Richard B., quoted, v. 171. 

Ships, V. 31 ; vii. 28 ; ship of heaven, 
X. 189 ; of humanity, xi. 339 ; mon- 
archy like a ship, iii. 202. 

Shirts, clean, the measure of self-re- 
spect, V. 84 ; vi. 235 ; x. 188. 

Shop-bill, ethics in, ii. 111. 

Shop-keeping, iii. 67 ; xi. 153. 

Shop, talking, viii. 97. 

Shopman, wrinkled, ix. 74. 

Shore, needed in shoving off, i. 288. 

Shot heard round the world, ix. 139. 

Should and would, viii. 34. 

Shrewdness and wisdom contrasted, 
ii. 114. 

Shyness, disease of, vii. 10, 12. 

Sibyls, writing, xii. 67. 

Sicily, vii. 70. 

Sick people, vi. 250, 252. 

Sickness, poor-spirited, iii. 67 ; vi. 57, 
129, 249/; viii. 96; a forbidden 
topic, vi. 188. 

Sidney, Algernon, quoted, x. 261. 

Sidney, Sir Philip, v. 10, 269; viii. 47; 
xi. 262 ; quoted, ii. 145. 

Sieve, the ear a sieve, xii. 29. 

Sight, iv. 65. 

Sights and sounds, viii. 27. 

Sign-boards of character, iii. 56; vi. 
169 ; X. 16. 

Signing off, i. 140. 

Silence, better than discourse, ii. 290 ; 
viii. 95 ; destroys personality, 319 ; 
xii. 157. 

Sileuus, iii. 150. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



335 



Sills of state, xii. 105. 
Similar and same, x. 145. 
Simile, use, viii. 17. 
Simonides, x. 444. 
Simorg, viii. 228, 250. 
Simplicity, greatness of, i. 160; ii. 
272; V. 179; mi. 279; vii. 116; x. 
57, 171. 
Sims, rendition of, xi. 272. 
Sin, iii. 79. 

Sinai, theatrical, v. 219. 
Sincerity, the basis of talent as of 
character, xii. 58 ; gives lasting ef- 
fect, ii. 145 ; vi. 216 ; the luxury of, 
ii. 193 ; more excellent than flattery, 
274 ; German, iv. 267 ; v. 115 ; gives 
force to eloquence, viii. 120 ; great 
men sincere, 217 ; ix. 16 ; x. 244 ; 
xii. 28, 58; every sincere man is 
right, 49. 
Sing-Sing in parlor, vii. 19. 
Sistine Chapel, vii. 126. 
Sitfast acres, ix. 36. 
Sixteen, sweet seriousness of, vi. 272. 
Sixty, man worth nothing until, vii. 

302. 
Size and worth, vi. 181 ; ix. 202. 
Skates, wings or fetters, vi. 20. 
Skating, iii. 62 ; vi. 36 ; viii. 34. 
Skepticism, self-defence against crude 
sentiment, ii. 34, 285 ; iii. 67, 76, 256, 
263 ; iv. 148 ff, 163 #, 172 ; x. 210 ; 
not to be feared, iv. 174; vi. 193.^, 
205 #; X. 204, 215 ; is belief in luck, 
210 ; viii. 134, 316 ; x. 265. 
Skill, comes of doing, vii. 303. 
Sky, do not leave the sky out of your 
landscape, vi. 188, 288; vii. 164// 
viii. 73, 134 ; ix. 15. 
Skyey sentences, iv. 198. 
Sky-language, xii. 18. 
Slaughter-house, vi. 13. 
Slave-drivers, theoretic, iii. 56. 
Slavery, xi. 129-175; 203-230; 277- 

290 ; 291-303 ; abolition, i. 266 ; 

xi. 233; American churches on, x. 
114 ; influence on American govern- 
ment, xi. 244; Bible and, 220; 
checking, 283 ; compromises, i. 261 ; 
xi. 163, 283; conspiracy, 277; in 
Cuba, i. 221 ; described, xi. 134/; a 
destitution, 277 ; disappearance, viii. 
138 ; bad economy, vii. 137 ; xi. 
280; Edinburgh Review on, 105, 
280 ; effects, 245 ; in England, 138 ; 
enigma of the time, 332 ; evils, ix. 
178 ; xi. 104, 155, 244, 280 ; we must 
get rid of slavery or else of free- 
dom, 233; proof of infidelity, vi. 
201 ; makes life a fever, xi. 233 ; 
resistance to it a nursery of orators, 



vii. 94; xi. 347; proslavery sc'hol- 
ars, X. 236 ; selfishness, i. 266 ; vii. 
155 ; woman and, xi. 347 ; inconsis- 
tent with the principles on which 
the world is built, 226. 
Slaves, must be able to defend them- 
selves, xi. 171 ; most men are, vi. 
27 ; prices, x. 51. 
Slave-trade, i. 250; iii. 94; xi. 134, 

138 #, 108; xii. 270. 
Sleep, a bar between day and day, v. 
71 ; viii. 258 ; those only can sleep 
who do not care to sleep, vii. 174 ; 
of children, xii. 71 ; takes off cos- 
tume of circumstance, x. 14 ; divine 
communications in, vi. 188 ; en- 
chantress, X. 9 ; lingers about our 
eyes, iii. 49 ; the condition of health, 
viii. 205 ; memory of, x. 11 ; life a 
sleep-walking, i. 107 ; witchcraft, x. 
9. See, also, Dreams. 
Sleezy hours, vi. 81. 
Sloven continent, v. 273 ; plenty, xi. 

409. 
Smartness, American love of, xi. 212 ; 

xii. 52. 
Smile, the forced smile in company, 

ii. 56. 
Smith, Adam, quoted, x. 402 ; xi. 

313. 
Smith, Captain John, viii. 158 ; quoted, 

xii. 100. 
Smith, Sydney, quoted, v. 101, 150, 

189 ; vi. 235 ; viii. 265 ; xii. 91. 
Snakes, peril of, ii. 294; as type of 
spine, iv. 105 ; doctrine of the snake, 
vi. 91 ; ix. 73. 
Snow, a cloak, viii. 140 ; property like, 
i. 43 ; shroud, ix. 200 ; and sunshine, 
189. 
Snow-ball, of memory, xii. 70. 
Snow-drift, ii. 23 ; ix. 27. 
Snow-flakes, iii. 166 ; ix. 179, 287. 

Snow-Storm, The, ix. 42// of 

illusions, vi. 308. 
Snuffle in religion, vi. 229. 
Social Aims, viii. 77-105. 
Social barriers, viii. 89 ; goods, vi. 
156 ; machine, 152 ; order, i. 288 ; x. 
184 ; pests, vi. 167 ; power, condi- 
tions of, V. 8 ; relations, iii. 260 ; sci- 
ence, viii. 198 // x. 201 ; soul, ii. 
198; structure, i. 236; usages, ii. 
143 ; vii. 114. 
Social Circle, Concord, Mass., x. 357, 

7iote. 
Socialism, i. 359 ; vi. 67, 96 ; x. 326 #. 
Societies, iii. 127 ; x. 254. See Associ- 
ations. 

Society, vii. 15-20; never ad- 

I vances, ii. 82; advantages, i. 294; 



336 



GENERAL INDEX 



iii. 110 ; vii. 213 ; x. 139 ; aims, vi. 
235 ; babyish, ii. 74 ; vi. 92, 156 ; x. 
266 ; bases, vii. 97 ; viii. 104 ; 
changes, x. 309 ; Channing's attempt 
at, 321 ; chemistry of, vii. 19 ; 
chooses fox- us, ii. 75 ; the need to be 
clothed with, vii. 15 ; composition 
of, iii. 196 ; in conspiracy against 
manhood of its members, ii. 51, 194 ; 
constituents, i. 337 ; conventional, 
iii. 136 ; for conversation, vii. 214 ; 
best cordial, 213 ; intolerant of crit- 
icism, iv. 164; part of the idea of 
culture, X. 36; people descend to 
meet, ii. 190, 261 ; vii. 18 ; a disap- 
pointment, ii. 191 ; divides man, i. 
85 ; dress, viii. 87 ; empty, ii. 290 ; 
favorites, iii. 137 ; fine, vi. 235 ; fine 
traits unfit for, vii. 12 ; fit found 
everywhere, viii. 302 ; no fixity, iii. 
191 ; French definition of, 119 ; sub- 
ject to fits of frenzy, x. 266 ; frivo- 
lous, iii. 98 ; threatened with gran- 
ulation, 118 ; is a hospital, 254 ; 
ideal, viii. 89 ; an illusion, i. 328 ; iii. 
191 ; vi. 296 ; swift in its instincts, 
178 ; welcomes intellect, iii. 136 ; 
affinity its law, i. 123 ; vii. 19 ; life's 
value doubled by, viii. 89 ; manners 
associate iis, vi. 165 ; a masquerade, 
213 ; secret melancholy, iii. 255 ; 
moral power controls, i. 238 ; x. 66 ; 
moral sentiment its basis, i. 125 ; 
work of necessity, 288, 295; iii. 
118 ; vii. 215, 231 ; made up of par- 
tialities, xi. 352 ; the poets' fabulous 
picture of, iii. 168 ; poverty of in- 
vention, ii. 340 ; a prison, iii. 244 ; 
progressive, xi. 345 ; relations, ii. 
259/; renovation, iii. 248; retreat 
from, i. 316, 328 ; x. 141 ; foolish 
routine, 169 ; rulers, iii. 122 ; its san- 
ity the balance of a thousand insan- 
ities, 226; a school, iv. 34; x. 139; 
shunned in order to be found, i. 
169, 327 ; spoiled by too much 
pains, iii. 110 ; stimulating, vii. 
16 ; secret of success in, iii. 137 ; 
harnessed in the team of, i. 238 ; 
timing and placing, viii. 83 ; timor- 
ous, ii. 74 ; troop of thinkers, vi. 
60 ; trifles, i. 141 ; our inexperience 
of true, vii. 121 ; truth-lover in, 
228 ; does not love its unmaskers, 
vi. 296 ; use of, i. 169 ; vii. 16 ; vul- 
gar, ii. 136 ; vii. 18 ; a wave, ii. 85 ; 
sacrificed to smooth working, i. 
300. 

Society and Solitude, vii. 7-20. 

Socrates, misunderstood, ii. 34, 58, 
241, 264 ; iii. 123 ; iv. 44/, 60, 66, 70- 



74, 81, 95, 134, 161, 274 ; vi. 240, 247; 
X. 290 ; xii. 58 ; quoted, iv. 134, 
151; vi. 253; vii. 06, 181, 285; xii. 
213. 

Soil, actions smack of, ix. 35 ; rights 
in, i. 291. 

Solar system, not anxious about its 
credit, vi. 194; has its parallel in 
the mental sphere, viii. 42, 212. 

Soldiers, vi. 72 ; vii. 246 #; x. 41. 

Solidarity, English, v. 98; nature's, 
vii. 139. 

Solidity, i. 313. 

Soliform eye, iv. 81. 

Solitariest man, x. 61. 

Solitariness, vii. 10, 15 ; xii. 253. 

Solitude, i. 168 #; vi. 149 #; vii. 10- 

15 ; age tends to, x. 309 ; art of, 

140 ; in cities, i. 13 ; consent to, 205 ; 
ripens despots, iii. 227 ; fragrant, 
ix. 18 ; insulation not, i. 168 ; lessons 
of, iv. 206 ; vi. 149 ; viii. 271, 293 ; x, 
140 ; xi. 222 ; of nature not so essen- 
tial as solitude of habit, i. 13; vi. 
150 ; 254 ; viii. 272 ; necessity of, i. 
69 ; 168 ; vi. 246 ; vii. 12/; populous, 
i. 135 ; vi. 255 ; vii. 162, 168 ; Pytha- 
goras on, vi. 149 ; viii. 271 ; revela- 
tions in, iii. 86 ; vii. 20 ; the schol- 
ar's, i. 168 ; secret of, xii. 187 ; and 
society, i. 169; ii. 55; vii. 20; of 
soul without God, x. 213 ; trespass 
not on, 142 ; voices heard in, ii. 51 ; 
xii. 75. 

Solomon, in Persian poetry, viii. 228/, 
236 ; ix. 250. 

Solstices of health and spirits, vi. 142, 
209; X. 211. 

Solution, ix. 189-191. 

Somers, Lord, quoted, v. 247. 

Somnambulism, x. 29. 

Song of Nature, ix. 209-212. 

Songs, essentials of, vii. 174; viii. 
60/. 

Sons of poor men, vii. 116. 

Sophocles quoted, iii. 73 ; x. 295. 

Sordor, i. 79. 

Sorrow, religion of, i. 209. See Grief. 

Soul, natural history of, xii. 3-59 ; 

published in act, vi. 163 ; the active, 
i. 91 ; admirable, not in our ex- 
perience, iv. 55 ; adult in the infant 
man, ii. 262 ; independent of age, 
262; all things known to, i. 212; 
ii. 119 ; iii. 231 ; balanced, iv. 55 ; 
becomes, ii. 69 ; biography, vi. 268 ; 
and body, see Body ; not saved in 
bundles, 205 ; x. 103 ; child of, iii. 
180 ; contrasted with the church, 
i. 141 ; circumscribes all things, ii. 
256 ; classes of, iv. 136 ; conceal- 



GENERAL INDEX. 



337 



ment of what does not concern it, 
iii. 232 ; counterpoise to all souls, 
320 ; xi. 221 ; knows no deformity, 
ii. 125 ; dictator, viii. 281 ; diseases, 
ii. 126 ; divine, i. 115, 212 ; door, 
ii. 173; dressed by Deity in cer- 
tain incommunicable powers, 137 ; 
iv. 32; vii. 15; duration, ii. 266; 
vi. 228 ; ebb, 35 ; ejaculations, vii. 
209 ; its emphasis always right, ii. 
137 ; in English broadcloth, v. 241 ; 
contains the events that shall befall 
it, X. 15 ; the eyes indicate its age, 
vi. 170 ; vii. 122 ; no flatterer, ii. 277 ; 
its food, i. 205 ; dependence of form 
on, iii. 9 ; growth not gradual but 
total, ii. 258, 298; gymnasium of, 
iv. 22 ; it is in a hope that she feels 
her wings, i. 205 ; bound to life by 
illusions, vii. 165 ; identity in all 
individuals, i. 108 ; immortality, 
see Immortality ; incarnation, ii. 
259 ; laws, i. 122 ; a life, ii. 116 ; is 
light, 67 ; lofty, i. 253 ; man an 
infinite, 134 ; marriage of, xii. 17 ; 
natural history, i. 201 ; nature of, 
ii. 254 ; and nature, see under 
Nature ; oracle, viii. 281 ; not an 
organ or faculty, ii. 254 ; each 
walks its owu path, xii. 39 ; not 
now preached, i. 134 ; private and 
divine, x. 228 ; progress, ii. 179, 
258 ; promise, 161 ; does not answer 
the questions of the understanding, 
265 ; receptive, i. 201 ; its large 
relations, vi. 268 ; remedial, i. 147 ; 
does not repeat itself, ii. 82, 327 ; 
revelations, 257 ; a river from un- 
seen regions, 252 ; not self-fed, xii. 
177 ; its sleep, viii. 216 ; social, ii. 
198 ; attainment of due sphericity, 
iii. 81 ; stability, ii. 297 ; superior to 
its knowledge, xii. 188 ; surren- 
dered, i. 253 ; in telegraphic com- 
munication with the source of 
events, viii. 216 ; x. 232 ; tide in, 
xi. 188 ; knows nothing of time, 
ii. 257 ; no traveller, 79 ; to be 
trusted, 179 ; discemer of truth, 
262 ; universal, i. 145 /, 212 ; ii. 
261 ; iii. 19, 79 ; iv. 51 ; vii. 44 ; viii. 
30 ; X. 100, 1228 ; the painted vicis- 
situdes of, viii. 30 ; wanderings, ii. 
172 ; the whole of which other 
things are the shining parts, 253 ; 
wider than space, i. 213; wiser 
than the world, 142 ; answers not 
by words, ii. 265 ; world mirror 
of, i. 148. See Over-Soul. 
Source must be higher than the tap, 
xi. 395. 



South Wind, ix. 310. 

Southern people, vii. 70 ; xi. 284. 

Southey, Robert, v. 11. 

Space, i. 44 ; ii. 216. 

Spartan civilization, i. 299; vii. 30; 
xi. 152 ; conversation, vii. 66, 236 ; 
domestic life, ii. 28 ; fife, 61 ; gen- 
erals, vii. 79; justice, iii. 195; re- 
ligion, vi. 11 ; saying, iv. 130. 

Spasms of nature, vi. 77 ; x. 185 ; xi. 
224. 

Specialty, each must have his, vi. 
130. 

Speculation, and practice, i. 10, 270 /; 
iii. 254 ; iv. 53, 254 /; no succeda- 
neum for life, xii. 258. 

Speech, iii. 42 ; lessens us, ii. 319 ; vi. 
214; vii. 10, 42, 95; viii. 91, 94/; 
X. 164 ; xii. 240 ; and silence, ii. 319 ; 
iii. 233 ; vii. 283. 

Spence, Joseph, quoted, iv. 146. 

Spence, William, quoted, v. 146. 

Spencer, Earl, book contest, vii. 200. 

Spending, rules for, vi. 109-123, 213. 

Spenser, Edmund, v. 223; vii. 50; 
viii. 51 /; quoted, iii. 19; iv. 59; 
V. 230 ; viii. 140. 

Spheral, iii. 230 ; vi. 295. 

Sphinx, ix. 9-13 ; i. 39 ; ii. 10, 35 ; 

vii. 222 ; xii. 267. 

Spine, the unit of animal structure, 
iv. 105. 

Spiral tendency, iv. 108; vi. 267; 
ix. 13. 

Spirit, i. 65-69 ; all - knowing, 

145 ; all thuigs from same, 123 ; 
ascent of, x. 224; creator, i. 33; 
defined, 31 ; eternal, .74 ; vii. 59 ; x. 
99; every one builds its house, i. 
79 ; vi. 14, 272 ; inundation of, i. 
167 ; a fact the end or last issue of, 
40 ; ii. 259 ; iii. 101 ; x. 212 ; latent, 
iii. 264 ; man founded in, 74 ; moan- 
ings, X. 14 ; names, iii. 74 ; 267 ; 
remedial force, i. 74 ; self-evolving 
power, iv. 83 ; vii. 155 ; solicitations, 
i. 211 ; speaks to each soul, x. 193 ; 
superincumbent, i. 176 ; iii. 267 ; 
supreme in all, i. 126 ; taciturn, iv. 
134 ; teachings apprehended only 
by the same spirit, i. 67 ; xi. 221 ; 
material theories of, do not degrade, 
ii. 285 ; universal, i. 49 ; iv. 51 ; 
vanisliing, x. 212. 

Spirit, Holy, see Holy Ghost. 

Spirit of times, vi. 9. 

Spiritism, x. 18. 

Spirits, animal, ii. 87 ; in prison, xi. 
205. 

Spiritual, iii. 56 ; true meaning is realt 
1 vi. 205. 



338 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Spibitual Laws, ii. 123, 157. 
Spiritual life, uuexampled in history, 

Spiritualism, false, iv. 134; v. 122; 
vi. 200; vii. 273; x, 18, 2G, 30, 234. 

Spontaneity, the essence of life, i. 
161 ; always right, ii. 64, 132, 300 ; 
iii. 70 ; vu. 174 ; viii. 192 ; xi. 355 ; 
xii. 31. 

Sportiveness of great, ii. 241. 

Sports, freemasonry of, vi. 138. 

Spotted life, ii. 27S ; x. 344. 

Sprague, Charles, quoted, xi. 65. 

Spring, chemistry, ix. 158 ; eagerness, 
147 ; in mind at sixty, 26 ; no ora- 
tor like, 158 ; tardy, 148 ; woods, 
18. See May-Day. 

Spurzheim, x. 318. 

Squeals of laughter, \iii. 86. 

Squirrels, ix. 143. 

StabUity of the soul, ii. 297 ; viii. 318. 

Stael, Madame de, i. 169; iii. 132; 
iv. 274 ; v. 117 ; vi. 144 ; vii. 225 ; 
viii. 92 /; quoted, i. 49; v. 117, 
222 ; viii. 176. 

Stagnation of life, iii. 54. 

Stairs, ii. 325 ; iii. 49 ; v. 226 ; ix. 107 

Stamina, want of, xi. 208. 

Stars, beguihng, iii. 168; black, vi. 
251 ; blessing, ii. 41 ; catalogumg 
stars of the mind, i. 101 ; discon- 
tented, 202; of flowers, 24; fugi- 
tive, vi. 291 ; inspiration, i. 13 ; new 
doctrines like stars whose light has 
not yet reached us, ii. 140, 320 ; 
one light from all, i. 108 ; loved by, 
ix. 76 ; of mind, i. 101 ; patient, ix. 
277 ; and planets, ii. 188 ; of possi- 
bility, i. 212; punctual, ix. 200; 
awaken reverence, i. 13; packed 
into rockets, xii. 9 ; rose, his faith 
was earlier up, ix. 231, 257 ; science- 
baflaing, ii. 64 ; shower of, vii. 124 ; 
silent song of, i. 124; all sky and 
no, xii. 42 ; smile, i. 13 ; stoop down, 
iii. 169 ; strangers to, ix. 123 ; 
taunt by mystery, 25; of thought, 
ii. 205, 301 ; vii. 236 ; hitch wagon 
to, 33/; with some men we walk 
among the stars, viii. 83. 

State, not aboriginal, iii. 191 ; basis, 
189, 209^7"; X. 112 ; xi. 104 ; building, 
ix. 230 ; corrupt, iii. 199 ; guidance 
of, xi. 424 ; object, iii. 206 ; x. 93 ; a 
question, iv. 151 ; wise man is, iii. 
206. 

States of mind, rotation of, iv. 168. 

Statesmen, republican, iii. 189 ; Amer- 
ican, xi. 167. 

Statistics, iv. 106 ; vi. 21. 

Statue, ii. 333, 340 ; of punk, vi. 138 ; 



has no tongue, 163 ; vii. 126 ; man- 
ners of, viii. 85. 

Statute, an immoral statute void, xi. 
246. 

Stay at home in mind, viii. 97. 

Stealing, who does not steal ? iii. 80. 

Steam, i. 19 ; v. 95, 155 j^'; 163 ; vi. 37, 
84, 86 ; vii. 153 ; ix. 23 ; x. 17, 25, 
151. 

Steamship, ii. 343. 

Steel-filings, men like, iii. 218. 

Steele, Richard, quoted, viii. 92. 

Steering and drifting, x. 189. 

Steffens, Heinrich, quoted, viii. 201. 

Stephenson, George, vi. 118. 

Stick to your own, vi. 202 ; viii. 287. 

Stilling, Jung, iii. 102 ; vi. 12. 

Stimulants used by bards, iii. 31. 

Stirling, James H., quoted, viii. 127. 

Stockholder in sin, ii. 235. 

Stoical pi eriian, i. 159. 

Stoicism, iii. 179 ; iv. 153 ; x. 200, 291, 
300 ; xii. 95 ; genesis of, i. 320 ; puts 
the gods on their defence, xii. 95 ; 
every stoic a stoic, ii. 84. 

Stomach, a stomach evidence, viii. 
316; iv. 168; stoutness, or, vi. 61; 
xi. 200. 

Stonehenge, v. 259-275. 

Stones, conscious, ix. 16; rocking- 
stones, xi. 334 ; broken cannot be 
put together into unity, xii. 40. 

Stories, love for, vii. 202, 221 ; genesis 
of, viii. 173, 178. 

Stowe, Harriet Beecher, vii. 270. 

Strafford, Earl of, rule as to reading, 
viii. 175. 

Straight lines, no, vii. 173. 

Strangers, 184/, 317 ; iii. 65; vi. 85. 

Strawberries lose flavor in garden- 
beds, ii. 227. 

Stream of power and wisdom, ii. 133 ; 
xi. 167; xii. 15. 

Streets, i. 55 ; vi. 296 ; x. 139 ; xii. 66 ; 
language of, force, viii. 121. 

Strength, ii. 68, 113 ; vi. 60, 182 ; joy 
indicates, 250 ; vii. 267; x. 71 ; de- 
pends on moral element, 186 ; xii. 
50, 57, 267; we are strong by bor- 
rowing the might of the elements, 
vii. 32. 
Strikes, iv. 222. 
Study, victims of, iv. 149. 
Stupidity, a saving, v. 134. 
Sturleson, Snorro, v. 59 ; vii. 197. 
Style, betrays, viii. 36. 
Styx of experience, x. 240, 461. 
Subjectiveness, iii. 77; is intellectual 

selfishness, xii. 180. 
Subject, your subject must appear the 
flower of the world, viii. 37. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



339 



Sublime, meaning of, vi. 33, 216. 

Suburbs of nature, i. 111. 

Success, vii. 265-293 ; conditions, 

iv. 125 ; vi. 56, 72, irX>, 114, 1.36, 262 ; 
vii, 176; viii. 219, 325; x. 21, 24; is 
the doing, i. 174 ; base estimate of, 
ii. 93; iii. 85; vi. 80; made up of 
failures, x. 60 ; forever good, ix. 33 ; 
idolatry of, vii. 272 ; perils of, i. 176, 
223; treads on every right step, 
103, 174; ii. 188; self -trust the 
first secret of, vii. 276 ; is in the 
work, not in what is said of it, vi. 
215. 

Succession, necessity of, iii. 47,58, 83 ; 
iv. 168. 

Suction, content in, viii. 169. 

Suffering, religion of, i. 209 ; iii. 87 ; 
BhaUowness, 52 ; x. 188 ; xii. 270. 

Suffrage, imiversal, iii. 200/; viii. 
219; x. 38 ; for women, xi. 350/. 

Suggestiveness, everything a sugges- 
tion, ii. 285; viii, 172; xii, 40. 

Suicide, skepticism is, viii, 134 ; x. 
236. 

Summer, i. 24, 119 ; of the spirit, 
79. 

SUMNEE, CHAELE3, AsSAULT UPON, xi. 

231-237. 

Sumptuary laws, vi. 104. 

Sumter, Fort, xi. 321. 

Sun, borrows its beams, vi. 302 ; im- 
age in echpse, x. 16 ; seen by few, i. 
14; forgotten, ix. 33; telling hour 
by, ii. 83 ; insipid, vi. 242 ; a lamp- 
wick, X. 214 ; lick away, vii. 74 ; 
sprang from man, i. 75 ; ii. 212 ; ix. 
122 ; man would pluck down, i. 292 ; 
radius - vector, viii. 27 ; snubbing, 
287 ; sowing for seed, i. 244 ; system 
made by, xii. 16 ; not troubled at 
waste of rays, ii. 206 ; better method 
than the wind, i, 241. 

Sunday, core of civilization, vii, 128 ; 
X. 108, 117, 226 /; Sunday objec- 
tions, iv. 165 ; x. 344 ; xi. 215. See, 
also, Sabbath. 

Sunday-schools, dead weight of, ii. 
129/; iii. 66. 

SuNBiSE, ix. 285 ; i. 23. 

Sunset, i. 23, 204 ; iii, 167, 184 ; vi. 78 ; 
vii. 283 ; quoted, viii. 179. 

Sunshine, iii, 33 ; vi. 250 /, 

Superficialness of our lives and our 
thinking, i, 170, 187; x, 234; xii. 
258. 

Superfluities, beauty the purgation of, 
iii, 247 ; vi, 279, 

Superiority, each has some, iii. 266; 
vii. 267 ; X. 49; in what it consists, 
Iii. 58. 



j Superiors, each man prefers the soci- 
I ety of, iii. 260 ; vii. 17 ; viii. 302 ; x. 
I 39, 54, 102, 378. 

i SuPEELATi\'E, The, X. 157-174 ; iii. 

1.35. 

Supernatural, x. 191. 

Superstition, vi. 139 ; xi. 167 ; xii. 94, 
263 ; consequences of displacing, ii. 
33, 93 ; vi. 199 ; x. 194, 198. 

Supper, good basis for club, vii, 
233/ 

Supplementary, men supplementary to 
each department of nature, viii. 
288. 

Surfaces, we live amid, iii. 62, 231; vi, 
257, 274 ; vii. 175, 279 ; ix, 122 ; x, 
133, 215 ; xii, 119, 

Surmises have value, i, 73. 

Surprises, life a series of, ii. 298 ; iii. 
69/; ix. 193. 

StmsuM CoEDA, ix, 80, 

Suspicion, we suspect what we our- 
selves are, vi. 214 ; xii, 265, 

Suum cuique, ix. 238. 

Swainish people, viii. 95. 

Swamp, i. 104 ; x. 181. 

SWEDEN-BOEG, Emanttel, Iv. 89-139 ; ix, 

191 ; angels, vii. 12 ; viii. 221 ; 

and Charles XII., vii. 252 ; needed 
no sanction from church, iii. 265 ; 
on discernment, ii. 262 ; on English 
centrality, v. 46; fame, xi. 3.32; 
Fourier, coincidence with, x. 329; 
on false speaking, ii. 149 ; on grav- 
ity as symbol of faith, x. 21 ; sepa- 
rate heaven of the English, v. 126, 
230 ; that each man makes his 
own heaven, viii. 310 ; Hebraism, 

38 ; influence, x. 311 ; hatred of in- 
tellect, 341 ; knowledge and prac- 
tice, i. 211 ; philosophy of life, 112 ; 
and Plato, iv. 42, 86 ; preaching, 
ix. 244 ; proprium, viii. 290 ; re- 
form in philosophy, 67 ; on love of 
rule, X. 120 ; sandy diff useness, iv. 
118 ; second sight, viii. 311 : sect, xi. 
347 ; sexes, 346 ; on solitude, vii. 
12 ; solidarity of souls, viii. 189 ; 
translates things into thoughts, iii. 

39 ; viii. 25 ; value, i. 112. 

Swift, Jonathan, iv. 144 ; v. 223 ; viii. 

299 ; xii, 70, 146. 
Swing, going to heaven in a, x, 322, 
Symbolism, i. 32, M, 371 ; ii. 210 ; iii, 

18-40, 74 ; iv, 67, 112-117 ; vi. 288 ; 

vii, 89, 202 ; viii. 15-30, 38, 71 ; x, 

131 ; xii. 18 ; a good symbol the 

best evidence, viii. 181. See, alio, 

Emblems, 
Symmetry, the whole society needed 

to give Bymmetry, iii. 60, 216 ; vi. 



340 



GENERAL INDEX 



127 ; viii. 14 ; xii. 18 ; in moving ob- 
jects, 277 ; in things, ii. 104. 

Sympathy, base, ii. 77, 245; iii. 78, 
134 ; vi. 128, 252 ; secret of social 
success, 137 ; iv. 18, 171 ; vii. IG, 18, 
283 ; viii. 277 ; x. 154, 225 ; xi. 173 ; 
xii. 20, 20. 

Synthesis, iv. 56. 

System, need of, vi, 114; tyrannical, 
120. 

Table, golden, x. G2; manners, viii. 
85, 97 ; men social at, vii. 233 ; rap- 
pers, X. 30 ; talk, vii. 199. 

Tacitus quoted, v. 51, 70, 85, 88. 

Tact, viii. 97. 

Tactics, Napoleon's, i. 174. 

Talent, talents, aristocracy based on, 
X. 43 ; a call, ii. 134 ; at the expense 
of character, 299 ; vi. 38 ; x. 205 ; 
sinks with cliaracter, vi. 208, 244 ; 
charm, vii. 218 ; communicable, viii. 

217 ; of no use to cold and defective 
natures, iii. 54 ; defined, xii. 44 ; 
demonstration of, 51; dreaded, vi. 
38 ; drowned in, x. 205 ; each has 
some, iii. 208 ; expiation, 208 ; expres- 
sion pays tax on, 200 ; and genius, i. 
159 ; iv. 103 ; x. 203, 205, 270 ; your 
gift better tlian another's, ii. 81 ; for 
government, i. 304 ; integrity dwarfs, 
vi. 203 ; and central intelligence, vii. 
278 ; literary talent a youthful effer- 
vescence, 301 ; mischievous, vi. 132 ; 
enriches the community of nations, 
103; partiality, iv. 202; perception 
outruns, vii. 283; popular idea, ii. 

218 ; poverty and solitude bring out, 
vi. 240 ; practical bias, viii. 291 ; for 
private ends, x. 85 ; respect for, iv. 
267; sacrifice to, xii. 52; scholar 
needs, x. 209 ; and sensibility, vii. 
278 ; sincerity basis of, xii. 28, 58 ; 
special, iii. 00 ; speed, xii. 45 ; supple- 
mentary, X. 337 ; for talent's sake, 
viii. 218; temptations, i. 269; no 
excuse for transgressions, ii. 219 ; 
veils wisdom, iv. 209 ; value, vi. 
80 ; vii. 170 ; young admire, vi. 217. 

Taliessin, exile, ix. 315 ; quoted, viii. 

59/-. 
Talismans, ix. 33, 02 ; x. 25, 120 ; xi. 

172. 
Talk and talkers, vii. 70, 214/, 220; 

talking for victory, viii. 96. 
Talleyrand, vii. 272 ; quoted, iv. 256 ; 

V. 273 ; vi. 255 ; viii. 85. 
Talma, vi. 104. 
Tamerlane, viii. 104, 238. 
Tantalus, ii. 35 ; vii. 157. 
Tariff, of moral values, ii. 102, 118 ; 



iv. 26 ; to give prefeience to worse 

wares, vi. 214/; xi. 281. 
Tasks, as duties, ii. 74 ; iii. 209 ; vi. 

304 ; vii. 270 ; life-preservers, vi. 
1 221, 201 ; we are to know our own, 
1 xi. 205. 
Tasso, ii. 219. 
Taste a sensual appreciation of 

beauty, i. 28 ; iii. 9, 135 ; xi. 342 ; xii. 

118. 
Taxes, the debts most unwillingly 

paid, iii. 200 ; xi. 281, 299 ; English, 

V. 151 ; taxation of women's prop- 
erty, xi. 354. 
Taylor, Edward T. (" Father "), viii. 

112, 301; X. 222, 353. 
Taylor, Jeremy, ix. 17 ; x. Ill, 196, 

218 ; xii. 95. 
Taylor, Thomas, v. 280 ; vii. 193 ; viii. 

52. 
Tea, sentiment in a chest of, iv. 147 ; 

viii. 200 ; ix. 182,^'. 
Teachers and teacliing, ii. 144, 209, 

319 ; milestones of progress, iv. 37 ; 

vi. 141 ; xi. 222. See Education. 
Teeth, significance, vi. 174. 
Telegraph, electric, v. 157 ; vii. 31, 

154/, 240 ; viii. 133, 138 ; ix. 23, 107, 

174. 
Telescope, vi. 97 ; partial action of 

each mind a, iii. 81 ; v. 77. 
Temper, useful defect of, ii. 113; 

neutralizing acid, x. 225. 
Temperament, the wire on which the 

beads are strung, iii. 47, 54-57 ; 

V. 54, 130 ; vi. 15, 56, 77, 233 ; vii. 

03, 250 /; viii. 79; x. 40, 75; xi. 

348 / ; resists the impression of 

pain, xii. 270. 
I Temperance, mean and heroic, ii. 

237 ; iii. 252 ; v. 102 ; x. 159. 
Temperate zone, vii. 29 ; x. 171 ; of 

our being, iii. 05. 
Temple, a thought like a, ii. 200 ; iv. 

124 ; in the heart, vi. 190, 290. 
Temptation, we gain the strength 

we resist, ii. 114, 127. 
Ten commandments, vegetable and 

animal functions echo, i. 46 ; vii. 27 ; 

X. 119. 
Ten Thousand, Xenophon's, iii. 100. 
Tenacity, badge of great mind, v. 98 ; 

X. 00. 
Tendencies, not deeds but, 1. 205, 236 ; 

X. 05. 
Tennyson, Alfred, v. 243/, 249; xii. 

229 //•; quoted, ii. 248 ; xii. 206. 
Tense, the strong present, iii. 00. 
Tents of life, ii. 120, 178, 211 ; ix. 

280 ; xi. 344. 
Terminus, ix. 216/. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



341 



Terror shuts the eyes of mind and 
heart, vii. 244; xii. 264. See, also, 
Fear. 

Test, The, ix. 189. 

Tests of men, vi. 248 ; vii. 289. 

Teutonic traits, v. 114. 

Thackeray. William M., v. 219, 234, 
256. 

Thames River, v. 44. 

Thanks humiliating, iii. 157. 

Theatres, iv. 183; vii. 205; viii. 30. 

Thebau Phalanx, x. 61, 309. 

Thebes, xii. 26. 

Theism, argument for, vii. 154 ; puri- 
fication of the human mind, iv. 11. 

Theology, x. 32, 109, 113, 199, 218; 
men are better than their theology, 
i. 142 ; ii. 93 ; vi. 205 ; xi. 382 ; the- 
ological problems the soul's mumps 
and measles, ii. 126 ; the rhetoric of 
morals, x. 109. 

Theory, test of, i. 10 ; and practice, 
X. 149, 256, 334 ; xii. 46. 

There and then, preposterous, ii. 16. 

Thermometer, nature a thermometer 
of the divine sentiment, iii. 172 ; 
of civilization, xi. 193 ; of fashion, 
411. 

Thermopylae, vi. 238 ; vii. 257. 

Theseus, iii. 90. 

Thief, steals from himself, iii. 110, 
112. 

Thine Eyes Still Shined, ix. 88/. 

Things, i. 44 ; iii. 232 ; education to, 
244 ; ride mankind, ix. 73. 

Thinkers and thinking, i. 169, 269 ; ii. 
154, 306, 308; iii. 77, 85; v. 212; 
vi. 29, 114 ; x. 241. See, also. 
Thought. 

Third party in conversation, ii. 260. 

Third person plural, age of the, xi. 
419. 

Thomson's "Seasons," viii. 27. 

Thor, ii. 72 ; v. 89, 157 ; vi. 1.32, 303. 

Thoreatj, Henry D. , x. 419-452 ; 

viii. 274 ; ix, 44 ; quoted, x. 50, 87, 
335 ; xii. 79. 

Thoreau, Mrs., x. 383. 

Thought, thoughts, abiding, i. 338 ; 
tends to pass into action, ii. 154 ; 
vii. 41 ; giving actuality to, vi. 92 ; 
affinity, xii. 21 ; the age in, i. 251 ; 
pent air-ball, vi. 273 ; all things 
from, X. 259; clothes itself with 
material apparatus, i. 27 ; viii. 22, 
259 ; xi. 191 ; ascent, viii. 29 ; dis- 
poses the attitudes of the body, 
82 ; must have fit audience, 277 ; un- 
disciplined will has bad thoughts, 
vi. 305 ; we read better thoughts 
than the author wrote, viii. 187 ; 



believe your own, vii. 275 ; viii. 104 ; 
capital, X. 78 ; and character, vi. 31 ; 
every thouglit commanded by a 
higher, ii. 283 ; made clearer by 
unfolding, viii. 90 ; communication, 
ii. 312 ; conditions, vii. 217, 236 ; 
consecutiveness, viii. 258 ; xii. 48 ; 
control, ii. 306 ; xii. 43 ; gives 
courage, viii. 312; currents, 12; 
decay of, 221 ; x. 236 ; dominion 
in proportion to depth, ii. 145 ; vii. 
42 ; X. 106 ; devout, i. 77 ; diseases, 
iv. 171 ; mastery by seeing them at a 
distance, viii. 322 ; rush of thought 
in dreams, xii. 80 ; ends universal 
and eternal, iii. 73 ; vii. 15 ; makes 
fit expression, i. 133, 180 ; iii. 15 ; 
vi. 183 ; viii. 22, 24, 54 ; x. 225 ; xii. 
38 ; few, viii. 171 ; makes fit for use, 
iii. 22 ; must be formulated, xii. 42 ; 
makes free, vi. 29 ; and friendship, 
i. 180 ; fugitive, viii. 258 ; of God, vii. 
261 ; viii. 20 ; x. 88 ; growth, xii. 17, 
24 ; taken by the right handle, ii. 226 ; 
from heart, viii. 217 ; xi. 211 ; not 
hidden, i. 180 ; hospitality to, 276 ; 
vi. 187 ; individual is partial, vii. 
235; unequal, viii. 256; inexhaust- 
ible, i. 176 ; inspired, iii. 35 ; x. 132 ; 
institutions founded on, ii. 152 ; x. 
89 ; insulated, vii. 311 ; interference 
with, ii. 263 ; intoxication, viii. 281 ; 
keys of, i. 96, 103 ; the key to every 
man, ii. 283 ; and maiuial labor, i. 
230 ; lateral, not vertical, 187 ; re- 
vises life, ii. 152 ; as living char- 
acters, vii. 209 ; xii. 80 ; measure of 
man, vii. 119 ; masters of, ii. 322 ; 
and matter, see under flatter ; each 
has its proper melody, vii. 49; 
method, ii. 309, 311; air of mind, 
vii. 213 ; miracle, ii. 312 ; viii. 258 ; 
unity with morals, x. 178 ; and 
nature, see under Nature ; needs of, 
X. 267 ; lift Olympus, i. 166 ; go in 
pairs, vii. 217 ; at | firstj possess us, 
then we them, xii. 40; power, vi. 
46 ; X. 79, 225, 241 ; xi. 191 ; practi- 
cal, xii. 42 ; prisons, ii. 316 ; iii. 36 ; 
production, conditions of, ii. 313; 
vi. 85 ; the more profound the more 
burdensome, vii. 42 ; iii. 73, 193 ; 
X. 239; xi. 179; all have property 
in, ii. 200 ; iv. 189 ; prosperity has 
its root in a thought, i. 232 ; vii. 
279 ; viii. 258 ; provocation, vii. 217 ; 
pure, poi.son, 213 ; let us into 
realities, viii. 258 ; results, x. 76 ; 
retrospective, xii. 19 ; penurious 
rill, 47 ; saliency, 54 ; in savage, 
viii. 256 ; self-publishing, xi. 289 ; 



342 



GENERAL INDEX. 



imbosomed in sentiment, x. 179; 
wear no silks, vi. 30G ; sky-language, 
xii. 18; no solitary, 19; beyond 
soul's reach, viii. 260 ; source, 
ii. 252 ; vast spaces in, xii. 206 ; 
fugitive sparkles, 48; speak your 
own, ii. 47/ ; viii. 92 ; stock in, 
X. 78 ; succession illusory, vi. 302 ; 
must be tempered with affection and 
practice, vii. 213 ; a sword, x. 133 ; 
thread on which all things are 
strung, iv. 162 ; xii. 138 ; out of 
time, ii. 256; twilights of, x. 24; 
value, xii. 37 ; vortices, viii. 13 ; 
waited on, i. 230 ; walk and speak, 
250; other wants come from want 
of thoughts, 232 ; and will, 28, 71 ; 
ii. 306; always clothes itself with 
words, viii. 37 ; xii. 67 ; rule world, 
iii. 207 ; viii. 24, 217 ; x. 89 ; writer's 
grasp, viii. 37. 

Threat, refreshment of, i. 146 ; more 
formidable than the stroke, vii. 
250. 

Threnody, ix. 130-138. 

Thrift, true, vi. 124; low, vii. 108. 
See, also, Economy, Frugality. 

Thucydides quoted, vii. 74 ; x. 293. 

Tides, made to do our work, vii. 32, 
46; of thought, x. 131, 211; xi. 
188. 

Ties, human, ii. 195, 204 ; moral, vi. 
263. 

Timaeus, iv. 44. 

Time, for affairs and for thought, ii. 
296 ; iii. 44, 86 ; iv. 26 ; animals have 
no value for, x. 152 ; consoler, xii. 
269 ; child of eternity, i. 273 ; vii. 
175 ; dissipates the angularity of 
facts, ii. 14 ; finder, vii. 311 ; of 
force to be husbanded, viii. 275 ; in- 
verse measure of intellect, ii. 256; 
killing, X. 132; laws, ii. 216; mea- 
sure spiritual, not mechanical, vii. 
170 ; omniscient, 311 ; nature's mea- 
sure of, iii. 44; poetry shows no 
mark of, i. 93 ; poison, vii. 300 ; 
value of present, 166 ; problem of, 
viii. 214 ; prolific, x. 132 ; reformer, 
V. 109 ; always time to do right, viii. 
35 ; river of, iii. 10 ; slit and ped- 
dled, ii. 213 ; iv. 20 ; and space, i. 
61, 70 ; physiological colors which 
the eye makes, ii. 67 ; painful king- 
dom, 163 ; fugitive, 257 ; should be 
tried, xii. 2G8 ; inverse measure of 
force of soul, ii. 256 ; is the distribu- 
tion of wholes into series, vi. 302. 

Timeliness, ii. 216 ; vi. 86 ; viii. 83. 

Times, The Lecture on, i. 245-276 ; 
109 ; vi. 9, 421. 



Timidity, vii. 243 ; mark of wrong, ii. 

108. 
Timeoleon, ii. 127 ; xii. 159. 
Tin pans. Homer and Milton may be, 

viii. 69. 
Tisso, Prince, vi. 270. 
Tithonus, vii. 302. 
Titles, English, v. 189. 
Titmouse, The, ix. 200-203 ; i. 

163. 
Tobacco, iii. 31 ; vi. 301 ; vii. 34, 300 ; 

ix. 30 ; X. 240 ; xi. 154. 
To-day, all-importance of insight into, 

i. 110, 158 ; king in disguise, 255 ; iii. 

51, 63; vii. 166/,- viii. 258 ; x. 371 ; 

xi. 418, 420 ; xii. 81. See, also, Day, 

Present, Time. 
Toil, viii. 294 ; ix. 61 ; xi. 423. See, 

also, Labor, Work. 
To-morrow, power of, ii. 216, 285, 

298; viii. 2G9 ; x. 371. 
Tongue, iv. 47; vi. 53; vii. 74; viii. 

215 ; ix. 274 ; xii. 143, 175. 
Tonics, best, vii. 213 ; viii. 260. 
Tooke, Home, quoted, vi. 263 ; viii. 

296. 
Tools, vi. 36, 79, 89, 136; vii. 151, 

156 ; X. 145 ; xii. 70 ; run away with 

the man, i. 199 ; vii. 157. 
Torch, man a torch borne in the wind, 

X. 262. 
Torrid zone, animated, ix. 39. 
Toussaint L'Ouverture, iii. 94 ; x. 51 ; 

xi. 172. 
Town-incrusted sphere, ix. 68. 
Town-meetings, vii. 246 ; viii. 100, 113 ; 

xi. 50, 410 ; advantages of, vi. 142 ; 

xi. 46, 50, 409. 
Towns have their explanation each in 

some man, vi. 45 ; ix. 49. See, also, 

Cities, Country. 
Toys, instructive, iii. 178 ; vi. 43, 297, 

301;vii. 121, 165; viii. 144. 
Trade, selfish, i. 220 #; iii. 244; iv. 

145 ; 301, 357/; custom of, does not 

excuse, ii. 133 ; not intrinsically un- 
fit, iii. 92 ; V. 85 ; educative, vi. 104, 

107 ; the greatest meliorator of the 

world, vii. 159 ; ix. 25 ; x. 128 ; xi. 

153, 184, 413/; puts men in false 

relations to each other, iii. 244 ; a 

constant teaching of the laws of 

matter and of mind, x. 128. 
Tradition, i. 139 ; iv. 187 ; v. 50 ; x. 

116, 191, 209; xi. 268. 
Tragedy, transitoriness the essence of, 

iii. 59; iv. 175; vii. 14/ 
Tragic, The, xii. 260-272. 
Trances, ii. 264; iv. 95. See, also, 

tinder Swedenborg. 
Tranquillity, mark of greatness, i. 48 ; 



GENERAL INDEX. 



343 



vii. 114, 121, 293 ; viii. 88 ; x. C5, 
153 ; xii. 267, 269. 

Transcendency in poetry, viii. TO- 
TS. 

Transcendentalism, i. 249 ; ii. 294 ; x. 
323. See below. 

Transcendkntalist, The, i. 309-339. 

Transference of forces, x. T3. 

Transfiguration, Raphael's, i. 33T ; of 
things, viii. 28. 

Transformations, iii. 39 ; v. G4 ; viii. 
11. 

Transition, power resides in, ii. 09, 
ITl ; iii. 37, 58 ; vi. Tl, 2TT ; vii. 1T3 ; 
viii. 2T4; xii. 54/. 

Translations, ix. 244-250. 

Translations, benefit, vii. 194/. 

Translator, philosopher a, ii. 321. 

Transmigration of souls, ii. 35 ; iv. 94, 
120, 139 ; viii. 308. 

Transmission of qualities, x. 3T. 

Transparency of body, vi. ITO, 2T2 ; 
xi. 1T2. 

Travellers, ii. 2T2 ; v. 129 ; viii. 279. 

Travelling, i. 164 ; benefits, ii. T9 ; iii. 
31 ; iv. 10 ; V. 8 ; vi. 139, 252. 

Trees : thrifty, grow in spite of blight, 
vi. 61 ; growth, vii. 142 ; ix. 282 ; xii. 
23, 29, 50. See, also, Forests, 
Groves, Woods. 

Trimmers, v. 120. 

Trinity, xi. 22. 

Trinity of beauty, truth, and goodness, 
i. 335 ; vii. 59. 

Trolls, V. TT, 131. 

Tropes, iii. 33 ff'; vi. 30T; vii. 89 ; viii. 
IT, 20. See, also, Symbols. 

Tropics, ii. 214 ; viii. 148. 

True, the, heartlessness of, i. 335. 

Trust, i. 105; ii. 2T4, 2T8 ; vi. 262; x. 
18T; thyself, ii. 49 ; trust men and 
they will be true to you, 223. 

Truth, absolute, vi. 19T; abstract, i. 
10 ; 11.(304, 309 ; must be acted upon, 
i. 211 ; adorer of, iv. 276 ; vi. 290 ; 
apprehension of, i. 10, 70, IGG; ii. 
264 ; xii. 30 ; basis of aristocracy, x. 
43 ; the only armor, vi, 219 ; unity 
with jbeauty, i. 59 ; the summit of 
being, iii. 95; tyrannizes over the 
body, ii. 148 ; centre and circumfer- 
ence, viii. 210 ; root of character, vi. 
305 ; conditions of right perception, 
i. 126, 211 ; vi. 34, 114 ; needs no 
confirmation from events, iii. 98 ; 
men of the world value it for its 
convenience, x. 166 ; reception of, 
balanced by denial, i. 285 ; all men 
unwillingly deprived of, iii. 257; the 
search for, derided, i. 178 ; glad to 
die for, ix. 243; x. 98, 188; discern- 



ment of, i. 211 ; ii. 262 ; distorted 
by fastening on a single aspect, 315 ; 
draws to truth, viii. 211 ; seems less 
to reside in the eloquent, ii. 319 ; 
English, V. 114-123 ; essence, xii. 34 ; 
conveys a hint of eternity, vii. 96, 
289 ; expands us to its dimensions, 
iv. 176; vi. 30; does not involve 
ability to express it, iii. 181 ; expres- 
sion of, comes from clear perception, 
viii. 37 ; we are learning not to fear 
it, X. 204 ; firm ground, 171 ; pre- 
ferred to flattery, iii. 259 ; allowed 
with friends, ii. 193 ; vi. 184 ; badge 
of gentleman, v. 110 ; German ref- 
erence to, iv. 267; give me, ix. 122 ; 
not divorced from goodness, i. 210 ; 
iii. 203; iv. 126; answers to gravi- 
tation, viii. 210 ; alone makes great, 
ii. 152 ; x. 208 ; handsomer than af- 
fectation of love, ii. 53 ; humility the 
avenue to, x. 179 ; immortal, ii. 305 ; 
laws of imparting, x. 101 ; not hurt 
by our fall from it, 189 ; not to be 
labelled with any one's name, ii. 
261 ; lantern for other facts, 310 ; 
life in union with truth gives poetic 
speech, viii. 69; love of, iii. 259, 
264 ; magnetism of, xi. 334 ; makes 
man, x. 187; every man a lover of, 
iii. 263 ; no monopoly, ii. 261 ; iii. 
181 ; viii. 183, 295 ; x. 99 ; nature 
helps, i. 123 ; vi. 210 ; in new dress, 
viii. 18 ; new supersedes old, ii. 290 ; 
not obsolete, vii. 59 ; offered to all, 
ii. 318; all things its organs, 147; 
may be spoken in poetry, not in 
prose, viii. 54 ; policy enough, i. 177; 
power, vi. 219 ; prayer a study of, i. 
77; in the commonplaces of preach- 
ing, 137; a preserver, viii. 109, 323 ; 
must prevail, xi. 190 ; not shut up 
in propositions, iii. 233; expresses 
relation that holds true throughout 
nature, i. 49 ; x. 181 ; not received 
at second-hand, i. 126 ; the attempt 
to report, ii. 307; screens against, 
iii. 132 ; the rich can speak, vii. 137; 
search for, endless, ii. 298, 319 ; iii. 
233, 235; x. 132; service, ix. 105; 
xi. 199 ; all on the side of, vi. 193 ; 
X. 256 ; sides, i. 50 ; too simple for 
us, X. 109, 227; speaking, i. 123 ; ii. 
72, 246 ; vi. 155, 185 ; xi. 273 ; spirit 
woos us, i. 211 ; starlit deserts, 179 ; 
a statement for every one, vi. 193 ; 
vii. 91 ; summit of being, iii. 95 ; 
tart, xi. 271 ; translation, 210 ; un- 
hurt by treachery, x. 188 ; univer- 
sal, ii. 130 ; X. 96 ; wholesome, iv. 
63 ; worship, ii. 318. 



344 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Tuba, viii. 230, 242. 

Tuitions, ii. 1G4. 

Turgot quoted, i. CO. 

Turks, vi. 11. 

Turner, J. M. W., described, v. 131. 

Turtles, the tlioughts of a turtle are 

turtles, xii. 50. 
Two cannot go abreast, ii. 249. 
Two-Face, iii. 233. 
Twoslioes, vii. 103. 
Tyburn of Jews, iii. 111. 
Tyler, John, vii. 14. 
Types, ii. 98 ; viii. 178 ; the material 

the type of spiritual, v. 19. 
Tyranny, of genius, ii. 331 ; iii. 40, 228 ; 

of the present, 1G4 ; viii. 12. 

Ugliness, iii. 23 ; vi. 284 ; viii. 1C4. 

Ulysses, vii. 73 ; x. 45. 

Umbrellas, v. 104, 241 ; vi. 146. 

Unattainable, tlie, ii. 281. 

Unbarrelable, truth, i. lOG. 

Unbelief, our torment, i. 2C8 ; iv. 172 ; 
ages of, mean, x. 198, 204, 212. 

Uncles and aunts, xii. 251. 

Uncontinented deep, ix. G8. 

Understanding, i. 42, 279 ; vi. 58 ; vii. 
215. See, also, Reason. 

Understanding others, ii. 138, 286 ; iii. 
230 ; iv. 47. 

Understatement, rhetoric of, x. 164. 

Undertaker's secrets, x. 26. 

Undulation, principle of, i. 99; ii. 
309. 

Unfriendliness, ii. 226. 

Ungrateful space, ii. 206. 

Unhandselled savage, i. 100. 

Unhappiness, unproductive, ii. 330. 

Uniformity, neat and safe, x. 137. 

Unifying instinct, i. 87. 

Union, has no basis but the good pleas- 
ure of the majority, i. 308 ; ix. 179 ; 
xi. 102, 216/, 245, 248, 285; perfect 
only when the uuiters are isolated, 
iii. 253. See, also, United States. 

Unitarianism, i. 320 ; ix. 123 ; x. 112 ; 
xi. 22, 116 ; tlie pale negations of, 
196, 377. 

United States, civil war in, v. 22; 
vii. 246; viii. 113, 139, 197; x. 246; 
xi. 101-128, 275-322; constitution, 
219, 421; democracy, vi. 63; xi. 
408; disunion, 247; eloquence, viii. 
128 ; freedom, ix. 173 ; govern- 
ment, xi. 255, 411 ; prosperity, viii. 
197. 

Units of society, i. 85, 114 ; iv. 110/. 

Unity, ix. 236 ; of man, i. 106 ; ii. 

252; iii. 79, 221, 266; vi. 47; of 
mind, ii. 260 ; xii. 184 ; of nature, i. 
48, 71, 77; iv. 49// v. 226; vi. 30 ; 



viii. 13/, 23, 212; xii. 18; of soci- 
ety, ii. 85 ; of thought and morals in 
all animated nature, x. 178 ; of the 
world, vi. 50, 290 ; xii. 58. 

Universalist, every man a, iii. 234. 

Universality, iv. 103, 107; v. 228/, 
232 ; xii. 50. 

Universals, science of, i. 195 ; iii. 232. 

Universe, alive, ii. 99 ; we need not 
assist, iii. 269 ; beauty its creator, i. 
30 ; iii. 13 ; nest of boxes, viii. 316 ; 
bride of soul, iii. 78 ; its children, 
12 ; wears our color, 80 ; conversa- 
tion gives glimpses of, vi. 258 ; end, 
92 ; our expectations of, iii. 64 ; im- 
mensity, i. 45 ; property of every 
individual, 25 ; law, x. 27 ; man's 
part in, i. 9 ; iii. 30 ; x. 131 ; of na- 
ture and soul, i. 10 ; Newton on, viii. 
213 ; represented in each particle, 
ii. 95, 98 ; paths in, xii. 38 ; moral 
sentiment converts into a personal- 
ity, iv. 93; a jjound, iii. 95; prayer 
to, i. 327; prophetic, viii. 212 ; pro- 
tects itself by publicity, vi. 214 ; its 
simplicity not that of a machine, ii. 
131 ; the externization of the soul, 
iii. 19 ; holds man to his task, vi. 11, 
228 ; unhurt, ii. 125, 132. 

Universities, iii. 246 ; v. 203 ff; vi. 
150 ; xi. 227. 

Unjust, happiness of, xi. 225. 

Unknown, the fear of remaining, ii. 
149 ; search for the, iv. 64. 

Unpopularity, i^enalty, ii. 246. 

Unprincipled men, boasted perform- 
ances of, X. 244. 

Unproductive classes, vi. 252. 

Unpunctuality, discomforts, ii. 210. 

Unrelated, no man is, viii. 285. 

Unsaid, soul known by what is left 
unsaid, ii. 261. 

Unseen, we reason from the seen to 
the unseen, ii. 139; viii. 320; x. 
309. 

Unsettled, hope for him who is, ii. 
297/ 

Uranus, fable, i. 280. 

Uriel, ix. 21-23. 

Usage, drowsiness of, iii. 245. 

Use, the health and virtue of all be- 
ings, i. 47; vi. 120, 231, 274; vii. 
248 ; X. 85 ; xi. 423. See below. 

Useful, the, not detached from the 
beautiful, ii. 341 ; iii. 157 ; vi. 26, 
152, 276 ; viii. 301 ; xi. 223. 

Usual, to be wondered at, iii. 270. 

Utility, ii. 210/; iii. 11 ; English pas- 
sion for, V. 83, 235 ; x. 58, 234. 

Utterance, difference in the power of, 
viii. 235. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



345 



Vagabond, intellect is, ii. 80 ; viii. 
71. 

Valor is power of self-recovery, ii. 
288. 

Valuations, in nature no false valua- 
tions, iii. 100. 

Value, i. 47 ; vi. 104 ; of a man, viii. 
08. 

Vanb, Sir Harrv. '* 11. 

Vane always east, vi. \4i. 

Vanity, danger from, i| . 105 ; expen- 
sive, vi. 111. I 

Variety, cardinal fact oi iv. 49, 52. 

Varnhagen von Ense qloted, x. 106, 
110, 113. \ 

Varnish, of the dew, i. 155 ; of philan- 
thropy, ii. 53 ; iv. 83 ; of manners, 
vi. 1G3, 180 ; of nature, vii. 104. 

Vasari quoted, vii. 291 ; xii. 87, 90, 
125, 127, 135. 

Vast, the, x. 133 ; xii. 180. 

Vastation of souls, iv. 120. 

Vastitudes of time and space, viii. 
214. 

Vatican, ii. 334. 

Vaticination, parturient, xii. 57. 

Vauvenargues quoted, x. 94. 

Vedas, viii. 204 ; ix. 239 ; x. 73 ; quoted, 
iv. 49/; vii. 299. 

Vegetation, viii. 147 ; occult relation 
of man and vegetable, i. 10 ; ii, 175 ; 
xii, 22. 

Vehicles of truth, content to be, i. 
3G9 ; viii. 97. 

Vehicular, language only, iii. 37. 

Veneration never dies out, i. 125 ; x. 
213 ; we venerate our own unreal- 
ized being, i. 120. 

Venetian traveller in England quoted, 
V. Ill, 122, 141. 

Venice, v. 43. 

Venus, vi. 277; ix. 92 ; in art, ii. 340. 

Versailles courtiers, i. 194. 

Verse and verse-making, iv. 205 ; viii. 
43, 55, 50, 58, 119 ; ix. 189, 199. See, 
also, Poetry. 

Vesicles, power of growth, vi. 19. 

Vespucci, Amerigo, v. 148. 

" Vestiges of Creation," xi. 332. 

Vestry of verbs and texts in Sweden- 
borg, iv. 117. 

Vice, betrays it.self, ii. 59, 111, 1.50 ; the 
virtues of society the vices of the 
saint, vi. 239, 24y, 295 ; we ascribe 
our own to others, iii. 97 ; pride 
eradicates, vi. Ill ; people wish to 
be saved from the mischief of their 
vices, not from their vices, iii. 82 ; 
popular allowance of, vi. 202 ; 
viii. 299 ; x. 114 ; good patriots, vii. 



Victoria, Queen, v. 110, 185. 

Victory, iii. 8."3, 90, 112; v. 135,211; 
vi. 210, 220, 285 ; vii. 270, 272 ; viii. 
90, 170, 214 ; ix. 181 ; x. 127; xi. 177, 
221. 

Vienna, iii. 183; v. 142,252. 

View, difference of jwint of view, ii. 
294. 

Vigor, lesson of, iii. 74 ; iv. 235 ; vi. 
234 ; contagious, vi. 234. 

Viguier, Pauline de, vi. 281. 

Village, the esthetic, xii. 254. 

Villagers, we are, iii. 38 ; vi. 12 ; vii. 
121. 

Violin, Bible like an old, viii. 173. 

Virgil, ii. 141 ; quoted, vi. 45 ; vii. 
312. 

Virginia, xi. 133; University of, ad- 
dress at, X. 249. 

Virtue, not an aggregate, ii. 259 ; not 
mere amiaVjility, vi. 150 ; animal, iii. 
112 ; attainment, x. 84 ; a barrier, i. 
I 220 ; iv. 171 ; x. 445 ; opens the mind 
I to beauty, i. 120; xii. 138; clianges 
I in meaning, i. 318 ; ii. 293 ; x. 181 ; 
I xi. 333 ; Christianity loses some en- 
I ergy of, ii. 84; end of creation, i. 
121; defined, ii. 151, 255; viii. 218; 
X. 190 ; moral deformity is good pas- 
sion out of place, vi. 245 ; devils re- 
spect, ii. 15<^) ; like diamonds, best 
plain-set, vii. 112; distrust in, vi. 
201 ; earth and sea conspire^ with, 
vii. 54; economist, vi. Ill ; Euripi- 
des on, ii. 240 ; as exceptions, 54 ; 
none final, 295 ; fool of, vi. 307 ; 
essential to freedom, x. 87 ; genius 
in, viii. 201 ; geograplucal, i. 200 ; 
loved for its grace, iv. 205 ; great- 
ness, the perception tliat virtue is 
enough, ii. 240 ; is health, x. 40 ; is 
height, ii. 70; Imperial Guard, i. 
140 ; incommunicable, iv. 32 ; inspi- 
ration, 09; golden key, i. 08; the 
highest always against law, vi. 220 ; 
a luxury, 90 ; manifest and occult, 
X. 27; no merit, ii. 127 ; minor, 222, 
muniments of, vi. 212 ; natural, ii. 
259 ; occasional, x. 344 ; and order, 
i. 305 ; not to be paraded, ii. 127 ; 
the past works in the present action, 
CO; no penalty to, 117 ; not a pen- 
ance, 54 ; not piecemeal, iii. 250 ; 
source of power, ii. Ill ; ijrizes, x. 
01 ; procession, ii. 293 ; essence of 
religion, i. 121 ; x. 212 ; reward, ii. 
202; coincidence with science, iv. 
81 ; fashion is virtue gone to seed, 
iii. 125 ; separates from the state, 
205 ; X. 445 ; not a struggle, ii. 127, 
259 ; secures its own success, vii. 



346 



GENERAL INDEX. 



1)7 ; alone is sweet society, ix. 301 ; 

not taught, iv. (11) ; subject to no 

tax, ii. 118; totters, i. 334; we do 

not wear out virtue, ii. G3. 
Vislmu, iv. 51, 170; vi. '25; vii. 105; 

viii. 20; quoted, iv. 133. 
Vishnu Purana, iv. 50 ; vii. 208 ; 

quoted, X. 119. 
Vishnu Sarma, vii. 208; quoted, vi. 

224. 
Visibility, dismay at, vii. 11. 
Vision, where is no vision, the people 

perish, i. 17'J, 183 ; ii. 01) ; iii. 32 ; x. 

241 ; the visions of good men are 

good, vi. 305. 
Visit, The, ix. 20/. 
Visits, iii. 131 ; limit to, viii. 90. 
Vitruvius (quoted, i. 49 ; viii. 177. 
Vivian Grey, xii. 23G. 
Vocabulary of great poets, ii. 313 ; iii. 

22 ; viii. 52 ; books as vocabularies, 

vii. 201. 
Vocation, ii. 1^ ; vii. 113, 120. See, 

also, Employment, Occupation. 
Voice, English, v. 110; the sweetest 

music, i. 251 ; ii. 340; viii. 117 #; a 

hoarse voice a kind of warning, iv. 

138 ; viii. 83 ; index of state of mind, 

118. 
Volitant stabilities, iv. 154. 
Voltaire, viii. 182, 300// x. 110/; 

quoted, iv. 31 ; v. 124 ; vi. 33, 244 ; 

xii. 51. 
VoLUNTAHiES, ix. 178-182. 
Vortical motion in thoughts, viii. 13. 
Votary, religion cjinnot rise above the 

state of the votary, vi. 19G. 
Voting, i. 241, 328 ; iii. 2G4 ; vi. 19, 35, 

237 ; viii. 1(30 ; you cannot vote down 

gravitation or morals, xi. 223 ; fe- 
male suffrage, 350-353, 405. 
Vows, every man should assume his 

own vows, i. 232. 
Vulgar, the, iii. 112; vi. 220; x. C3 ; 

xii. 135. 

Wages, i. 353 ; vi. 220. 
Wagon, hitch to star, vii. 32/. 
Waiting, much of life seems, i. 333 ; 

ii. 222. 
Waldeinsamkeit, ix. 214/. 
Waldkn, ix. 307 >■; viii. 2GG ; ix. 

140. 
Walk, The, ix. 304. 
Walking, the art of, viii. 140. 
Wall Street, i. 220 ; vi. 90. 
Waller, Ednuuid, quoted, viii. 57. 
Walls of the soul, i. 103 ; v. 21. 
Wali)ole, Horace, quoted, vi. 282 ; x. 

101. 
Walter, John, v, 250. 



Wandering Jew, viii. 322. 

Want, and Have, ii. 89; vi. 115, 158; 
vii. 118; ix. 229. 

Wants, elegant to have few and serve 
them one's self, i. 235 ; man born to 
have wants and to satisfy them, vi. 
88, 91, 252 ; vii. 10, 59, 109, 111,308. 

War, xi. 177-201 ; art of, ii. 85 ; 

attractive because it shows readi- 
ness to peril life for its object, 
23(5, 300 ; x. 41 ; xi. 183, 198 ; child- 
ish, 183; forwards the culture of 
man, i. 304 ; vi. 39, 107, 158, 241 ; 
viii. 102; x. 41, 182, 237, 245, 394; 
xi. 03, 105, 301, 320, 398 ; Englisli 
in, v. 85, 92 ; foul game, 183 ; gun- 
powder in, xi. 397 ; improvements, 
x. 183 ; man born to, ii. 235 ; 
suits a semi-civili/.ed condition, xi. 
284 ; the solvent of effete society, 
319; Napoleon on, iv. 219, 224 ; xi. 
321 ; nothing new in, iv. 235 ; oppo- 
sition to, xi. 195 ; preparation for 
peace, vi. 72 ; science in, ix. 191 ; 
everything useful the seat of, iii. 
99 ; antagonized by trade, v. 157 ; 
xi. 184. 

Warren, John C, x. 321. 

Washerwoman's maxim, vi. 242. 

Washington, George, not found in the 
narrative of his exploits, iii. 89, 219 ; 
Jacobin tired of, iv. 31 ; Jerseys good 
enough for, ii. 243 ; Landor on, v. 
10/; and Lincohi, xi. 313 ; style of 
breeding, viii. 100 ; safe from the 
meanness of politics, ii. 248. 

Watches, men like, vi. 170 ; vii. 221 ; 
272 ; viii. 54. 

Water, ix. 284 ; drinking, ii. 240 ; 

iii. 32 ; finds its level, ii. 139 ; meet- 
ing of, 203 ; point of interest where 
land and water meet, i. 190 ; mixing, 
ii. 197 ; relieves monotony in land- 
scape, viii. 48 ; powers, ix. 47, 284; 
X. 72. 

Waterfall, ix. 307. 

Waterville College, address at, x. 231- 
24G. 

Watt, James, v. 77, 92, 97, 154, 227 ; 
vi. 23, 37, 59, 80 ; vii. 55 ; x. 17, 173 ; 
quoted, vii. 255. 

Waves, charm of motion, vi. 277. 

Weak, every man seems to himself 
weak, ii. 224. 

Wealth, vi. 83-123 ; hi America, 

v. 149 ; viii. 98 ; and aristocracy, i. 
249 ; without the rich heart, a beg- 
gar, iii. 149 ; ends, ii. 222 ; iii. 182 ; 
in England, v. 149, 151, 174 ; health 
the first wealth, vi. 57; vii. 110; 
hunger for, iii. 182 ; sign of know- 



GENERAL INDEX. 



347 



ledge, ii. 110 ; means, not end, iii. 
183 ; X. 125 ; index of merit, iii. 155,; 
objections, vii. Ill ; parasitical, x. 
258 ; power not to bo divorced from, 
xii. 100; respect for, not without 
right, viii. 98 ; scholar needs lit- 
tle, 280 ; servitude, xii. IIG ; ten- 
dency to draw on the spiritual class, 
X. 233 ; stands on a few staples, xi. 
396 ; tainted, i. 224 ; need of, for do- 
mestic well-being, vii. 110. 

Weather, we cannot give up care of, 
ii. 213. 

Weather-cock of party, xi. 398. 

Weatherfend the roof, ix. 100. 

Web, of life, vi. 81, 304 ; vii. 104, ICO ; 
X. 190 ; of nature, viii. 30 ; of party, 
xi. 248. 

Webster, Daniel, ix. 312; xi. 207- 

215 ; iii. 220 ; iv. 20, 190 ; vi. 18, 

65, 131 ; viii. 3(J, 115, 174/, 209, 301 ; 
X. 417, 456 ; xi. 220, 220, 233, 230, 
410 ; xii. 45, 70 ; quoted, vii. 76. 

Wedgwood and Flaxman, xi. 395. 

Weight, personal, v. 102 ; vi. 19. 

Weimar, Grand Duke of, and Goethe, 
viii. 300; quoted, ii. 216. 

Well, Inscription for, ix. 315. 

Well-doing, talent of, vi. 188. 

Well-dressed, tranquillity in being, 
viii. 88. 

Well-read, we expect a great man to 
be, viii. 170. 

Wellington, Duke of, v. 8, 69, 86, 107, 
117, 120, 177, 290 ; vi. 145 ; vii. 256, 
304 ; viii. 175 ; x. 163, 461 ; quoted, 
V. 109, 116, 128, 212; vii. 243, 298. 

Welsh poetry. Triads, quoted, vi. 26, 
287 ; vii. 65 ; viii. 59. 

West, the, i. 349 ; x. 174 ; xi. 416. 

West Indies, Emancipation in, xi. 
129-175. 

West Point, vi. 77 ; x. 240. 

West-Roxbury Association, x. 338^. 

Wheat, steampipe screwed to the 
wheat crop, vi. 86. 

Wheel-insect, iv. 27.5. 

Wheels, the creation on, viii. 10. 

Whigs, vi. 05; xi. 217/. 

Whim, as motto, ii. 53, 296. 

Whimseys, iv. 252 ; v. 121 ; vii. 302. 

Whiskey, tax on, vii. 34. 

Whistling, iv. 96, 175 ; viii. 73. 

Whitefield, George, vii. 314; xi. 69, 
88. 

Whitewashed by unmeaning names, 
V. 172. 

Wholeness in nature is wholeness in 
thought, viii. 152 ; x. 190. 

Wickedness, successful, ii. 92 ; vi. 26, 
67. 



Wicliffe, John, v. 207, 211 ; viii. 204. 

Wife, iv. 124. 

Wilkinson, James J. G., iv. 107 ; v. 
237. 

Will, acts of, rare, xi. 404 ; and action, 
iii. 96 ; affection essential to, vi. 32 ; 
beauty the mark of, i. 25 ; education 
of, the end of our existence, 45; 
vii. 259; elemental, viii. 317, 325; 
the presence of God to men, xii. 
43 ; the one serious and formidable 
thing in nature, vi. 34, 222; free 
agency, ii. 132 ; iv. 169 ; vi. 26, 40, 
51, 273 ; xi. 222 ; and inspiration, vi. 
34; moral sentiment the kingdom 
of, iv. 92 ; liberation from sheaths 
of organization, vi. 39; male power, 
X. 154 ; constitutes man, v. 15 ; x. 
94 ; not to be manufactured, vi. 32 ; 
miraculous, xii. 43 ; moral nature 
vitiated by interference of will, ii. 
127, 255, 306 ; viii. 218 ; preponder- 
ance of nature over, ii. 128 ; all 
possible to, iv. 167 ; measure of 
power, V. 289 ; vi. 31 ; viii. 268 ; x. 
154 ; xi. 218 ; xii. 42 ; rudder of the 
ship of humanity, xi. 339 ; selecting, 
vi. 84 ; added to thought, ix. 274 ; 
weakness begins when the individ- 
ual would be something of himself, 
ii. 255 ; wishing is not willing, 
xii. 42 ; realized in world, i. 40. 

Willard, Major Samuel, xi. 36, Wff. 

William the Conqueror, v. 73, 155; 
vi. 241. 

William of Orange, vi. 143, 222. 

William of Wykeliam, v. 275. 

Williams, Helen M., quoted, viii. 30. 

Willows, viii. 147. 

Wilson, John, viii. 188. 

Wilton Hall, v. 182, 209. 

Winchester Cathedral, v. 274. 

Winckelmann, vL 271 ; vii. 193 ; 
quoted, vi. 174. 

Wind, South, ix. 310. 

Wind, scholastic bag of, iii. 244 ; 
Welsh invocation of, viii. 59 ; on 
lake, 272 ; ix. 204 ; myriad- handed, 
42 ; order of, vi. 3^)4 ; sense of, 269 ; 
service, i. 19 ; south, iii. 166 ; ix. 
40, 91, 130 ; cosmical west, viii. 
201. 

Wind-harps, iii. 166 ; .see, also, Harp. 

Windows, of diligence, i. 25 ; painter, 
ii. 25 ; watcher of, 166 ; of the soul, 
vi. 172. 

Wine, bards love, iii. 31 ; bring me, 
ix. Ill; in cup of life, vi. 44; cup 
sliakes, i. 158 ; decanting, farm- 
ing like, vi. 116; and eloquence, 
147 ; false, viii. 71 ; friends are 



348 



GENERAL INDEX. 



frozen, ix. 291 ; Hafiz on, viii. 232- 
234 ; inspiration, 2GG ; for a cer- 
tain style of living, xi. 40(5 ; Lu- 
tlior on, iv. 147 ; liidden, ix. 155 ; 
wliicli is music, 112 ; no resource but 
to take wine with him, v. 219 ; what 
whio and roses say, ix. 31 ; sidereal, 
121 ; feels bloom of vine, 145 ; waters 
fell as, 34. 

Wings, affections are, viii. 217 ; beau- 
ty plants, iii. 27 ; vi. 289 ; of time, 
ix. 229. 

Wlnkelried, Arnold, i. 2G. 

Winter scenery, i. 24. 

Wisdom, return for action, i. 98 ; iL 
214; the dilference of persons not 
in wisdom but in art, 310; and 
beauty, iv. 09 ; cheerfulness of, vi. 
250 ; vii. 288 ; contagion of, iv. 18, 29 ; 
involves courage, x. 87 ; mask with 
delight, ix. 2G7 ; each lias enough, 
xii. 27 ; does not go with ease, 87 ; 
in private economy, ii. 221 ; like 
electricity, vii. 235 ; xii. 25 ; infused 
into every form, iii. 188; genius 
sheds, i. 108 ; from God only, iv. 
09; not withovit goodness, i. 210; 
health, condition of, vii. 288 ; of 
humanity, ii. 200, 270; in life, iii. 
62 ; and love, iv. 209 ; does not con- 
cern itself with particular men, viii. 
295 ; the mark of, is to see the mi- 
raculous, i. 78 ; iii. 70 ; no monopoly, 
ii. 261 ; to know our own, iii. 82 ; in 
pine-woods, 33 ; contrasted with 
shrewdness, ii. 114; sign, vii. 288; 
from well-doing, xi. 223 ; of world, 
ii. 270. 

Wise, Gov. Henry A., vii. 255; xi. 
253. 

Wise man, makes all wise, vi. 255 ; not 
always wise, 91 ; vii. 236 ; xii. 25 ; 
discriminates, i. 44 ; end of nature, 
iii. 200 ; few dare be, i. 140 ; and 
foolish, 44 ; iii. 270 ; can't be found, 
204 ; has no personal friends, 207 ; 
Luther said God could not do witli- 
out, 180; takes nmch for granted, 
X. 58; intelligence with otliers, ii. 
139; at homo everywhere, 79; ix. 
40 ; leaves out the many, iii. 99 ; all 
literature writes his character, ii. 
13; has no needs, iii. 200; shuns 
novelty, X. 109; presence, iii. 207; 
is state, 200 ; wants to find his 
weak points, ii. 113. 

Wiser than wo know, ii. 93, 203. 

Wishes are granted, vi. 49 ; vii. 308 ; x. 
96 ; xii. 42 ; and will, vi. 33 ; vii. 240. 

Wit, adamant soft to, ix. 66 ; shaft of 
Apollo, viii. 150 ; architecture of, i. 



167 ; charter, viii. 107 ; cheap, vi. 
219 ; detectors of, i. 337 ; difference of 
impressionability, vii. 279 ; English, 
V. 121; epilepsies of, ii. 191; and 
folly, 90 ; like Greek fire, viii. 156 ; 
humor bettor than, xi. 377 ; ice- 
cream instead of, i. 233 ; irresistible, 
viii. 156; does not make us laugh, 
90 ; law of water true of wit, xi. 
398 ; libraries overload wit, ii. 83 ; a 
magnet for wit, viii. 302 ; men of, 
unavailable, xii. 7 ; and mobs, viii. 
143 ; mother, x. 154 ; peacock, ix. 55 ; 
the finest has its sediment, vi. 23G ; 
makes its own welcome, viii. 156. 

Witan quoted, viii. 307 ; xi. 34. 

Witchcraft, of affection, ii. 166; of 
curls, vii. 103. 

Wolf, Frederick A., x. 312. 

Woman, xi. 335-350; iii. 145- 

147; as author, vii. 270; civilizer, 
ii. 244 ; iii. 145 ; vi. 143, 281 ; vii. 27 ; 
viii. 92 ; xi. 340 ; clergy addressed 
as, i. 75 ; conscience of people, xi. 
240 ; lawgiver in conversation, vii. 
214; viii. 91/; xi. 340; English, v. 
67, 107 ; fascination, vi. 299 ; of 
fashion, 105; figure, 284; Fourier's 
opinion of, x. 333 ; in the home, iii. 
145 ; xi. 343 ; element of illusion, vi. 
299 ; impressionable, 47 ; xi. 337 ; in- 
dex of coming hour, vi. 47 ; xi. 337 ; 
influence, vi. 105, 281 ; inspiration, 
ii. 143, 244 ; iii. 140 ; xi. 337 ; love 
and marriage, ii. 174 ; vii. 120 ; more 
personal than men, xi. 349 ; political 
status, iii. 145 ; viii. 198 ; xi. 347 ; a 
poet, vi. 281 ; rights, iii. 145 ; a solv- 
ent, 140 ; superior, speech of, viii. 
91 ; force of will, vii. 251. 

Wonder, poetry the daughter of, iv. 
197 ; seed of science, vii. 152 ; x. 31. 

Wood, Antony, v. 70,79; vii. 230; x. 
180 ; xii. 154. 

Wood-bell's peal, ix. 199. 

Wood-life, contrite, ii. 59. 

Wood-Notes, ix. 43-57. 

Woods, aboriginal, i. 103; city boy 
in, vii. 281 ; egotism vanishes in, i. 
16 ; not forgotten, 37 ; freedom of, 
vii. 146; glad, ix. 214; tempered 
liglit, iii. 164 ; man a child in, i. 15 ; 
peace, xii. 135 ; plantations of God, 
i. 15 ; inspire reason and faith, 15 ; 
self-similar, ix. 103 ; seem to wait, 
ii. 23. See, also. Forests, Trees. 

Woolman, Jolni, xi. 139. 

Words, are actions, iii. 14 ; air forged 
into, i. 40 ; aii'-sown, ix. 191 ; awk- 
ward, ii. 213 ; would bleed, iv. 100 ; 
brutes have no, i. 50; bullets, iv. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



349 



161 ; disputes in, iii. 26G ; finite, i. 
50 ; iii. 2G ; strokes of genius, 26 ; 
viii. 184 ; from heart, enrich, iii. 
103; golden, iv. 117 ; inflation from 
too much use, x. 1G5 ; Landor's u.se 
of, xii. 211 ; loaded with life, i. 9G ; 
lists of suggestive, iii. 22 ; meanings 
fluxional, ii. 299; vi. 288; viii. 22, 
37 ; metallic force of primitive 
words, 58 ; objects are words, xii. 
5 ; that are persuasions, ix. 131 ; 
perversion of, i. 35 ; fossil poetry, 
iii. 2G ; power, vii. Go ; religions and 
states founded on, viii. 41 ; sincere, 
never lost, ii. 150 ; to match the sky, 
ix. 199 ; spoken, not recalled, ii. 112 ; 
study of, iii. 244 ; symbolism a sec- 
ond nature, growing out of the first, 
26 ; thoughts always clothed in, xii. 
67 ; timely, ii. 216 ; transparent, 
vii. 182 ; necessary because of the 
distance of thought between speaker 
and hearer, ii. 291 ; new uses of, a 
source of inspiration, viii. 278; let 
us not be victims of, vii. 20 ; that are 
not words, but things, 214. 

Wordsworth, William, v. 21-27, 279- 
282 ; xii. 18G#, 225-229 ; Amer- 
ican appreciation, xii. 98 ; anecdote, 
vii. 306 ; appropriator of thoughts, 
viii. 183 ; habit of brag, v. 146, 280 ; 
conscientious, 243 ; viii. 192 ; and 
De Quincey, 183 ; great design, 37 ; 
xii. 227, 231 ; disparagement, v. 
281 ; exceptional genius, 243 ; Lamb 
to, viii. 189 ; example of right liv- 
ing, V. 280 ; vi. 148 ; Landor on, 
V. 281 ; xii. 203, 210 ; Pan's record- 
ing voice, ix. 206 ; agent of reform 
in philosophy, viii. G7 ; visit to, v. 

21-27, 279; quoted, i. 130; h. 

112, 126, 140 ; v. 22, 108, 208, 279 ; 
vi. 287; vii. 171, 281, 306; viii. 31, 
70, 177, 215, 280 ; x. 96, 217, 238, 
305 ; xii. 157. 

Work, dignity of, i. 20, 173, 175, 229, 
331; ii. 135, 155; iii. 181 /, 268; v. 
188 ; vi. 87, 91, 110, 214/, 221 ; vii. 27, 
133, 169, 274-277, 303 ; viii. 200, 323, 
324 ; ix. 105 ; x. 129 ; xi. 384, 423 ; 
xii. 28, 240. See, also, Labor. 

Works and Days, vii. 149-177. 

World, enlarged by our finding affini- 
ties, vii. 284; all outside, iii. 66; 
property of each if he will, i. 25, 
104 ; vii. 164 ; 288 ; a battle-ground, 
X. 87 ; is beauty, i. 21, 29, 111, 119 ; 
ix. 65 ; xii. 116 ; like man's body, 
i. 68 , build your own, 79 ; final 
cause of, 18 ; of com and money, iv. 
91 ; for cricket-ball, iii. 53 ; a divine | 



dream, i. 66, 286 ; for man's educa- 
tion, vii. 317 ; emblematic, i. 38 ; 
empty, ii. 140 ; belongs to ener- 
getic, viii. 139 ; X. 86 ; enigmatical, 
vii. 172 ; always equal to itself, iv. 
104 ; vii. IGG ; 288 ; viii. 203 ; not fin- 
ished, but fluid, i. 105 ; it is for good, 
X. 93 ; a growth, 180 ; in the hand, 
iv. 152 ; heedless, ix. 17 ; stands on 
ideas, x. 89; illustration of the 
mind, i. 120 ; immensity, ii. 331 ; 
belted with laws, x. 86, 127 ; congru- 
ity with man, i. 72 ; 120 ; ii. 10, 14 ; 
328 ; iii. 176 ; 188 ; x. 131 ; mathe- 
matical, ii. 99 ; vi. 80 ; mill, 81 ; in 
miniature, in every event, ii. 317 ; 
331 ; mirror of man, x. 185 ; his 
who has money, vi. 94 ; moral im- 
port, iv. 82, 113^; man the mould 
into which it is poured, i. 316 ; but 
one, x. 192 ; picture-book of human 
life, viii. 15 ; pListic, i. 105 ; plenum, 
iii. 231 ; a poem, iv. 116, 120 ; rough 
and surly, vi. 12 ; sit on and steer, 
i. 302 ; shadow of the soul, 96 ; iii. 
25 ; teacher, x. 127 ; a temple, iii. 21 ; 
rests on thoughts, x. 89 ; tool-chest, 
vi. 89 ; not yet subdued by thought, 
i. 1C3 ; for use, vi. 89 ; x. 75, 85, 125 ; 
not used up, iv. 235 ; product of one 
will, i. 123. 

World- Soul, ix. 23-27. 

Worship, decay of, i. 141 ; x. 198 ; vi. 
191-230 ; ix. 237 ; learned from na- 
ture, i. Go, 125 ; of material qualities, 
ii. 152 ; finds expression in good 
works, xi. 384, 392. 

Worth, absolute and relative, i. 144, 
237 ; ii. 62, 140 ; a man passes for 
what he is worth, 149 ; iv. 124 ; apol- 
ogies for real worth, iii. 208. 

Wotton, Sir Henry, iv. 194; quoted, 
V. Ill, 171 ; X. 411. 

Would, or should, in our statements, 
viii. 34. 

Wrath, English, v. 136 ; wild, x. 263 ; 
not available, xi. 210. See, also, 
Anger. 

Wren, Sir Christopher, quoted, xl. 
341. 

Writer, affection inspires, ii. 184 ; vii. 
16 ; best part of, is that which does 
not belong to him, ii. 105; v. 8; 
from his heart, ii. 145 ; materials, iv. 
249; need of him, 2.56; vii. 16; 
signs of originality, i. 36, 73; viii. 
37; the people, not the college, his 
teacher, vii. 16 ; popular power, x. 
56 ; once sacred, iv. 256 ; secondary, 
might be spared, vii. 186 ; secret, ii. 
310; self -trust, iii. 181; a skater 



350 



GENERAL INDEX. 



who must go where the skates carry 
hun, viii. 34 ; skill, not wisdom, his 
characteristic, ii. 310 ; conditions of 
success, 286; v. 8; vii. 174; sur- 
roundings, viii. 276 ; talent does not 
make a writer, iv. 267; young writer 
leaves out the one thing he has to 
say, viii. 292. 

Writing, comes by grace of God, iii. 
71 ; weakens memory, xii. 71 ; must 
be addressed to one's self, ii. 145. 

Wrong, seen only in some gross form, 
i. 265 ; the pains we take to do 
wrong, X. 146 ; penalty, ii. 107; pros- 
perity built on, X. 183 ; a remedy 
for every wrong, viii. 316 ; the years 
are always pulling down a wrong, 
xi. 106. 

Xbnophanes, ix. 120/; quoted, 

48. 
Xenophon, iii. 100 ; vii. 191 /, 234 ; viii. 

226 ; quoted, ii. 29. 

Yacht-race, it is the man that wins, 
V. 56. 

Yama, legend of, viii. 331. 

Yankee enterprise, ii. 221 ; vi. 59. 

Year, all sorts of weather make up, ix. 
71 ; each moment has its own beauty, 
i. 24 ; specious panorama, ix. 121 ; 
inhaled as a vapor, i. 154. 

Years, blue glory, vii. 166 ; menials, ii. 
152 ; single moments, confess, ix. 21; 
X. 242 ; of routine and sin, i. 144 ; 
teach much which the days never 
knew, iii. 71 ; usurped by petty ex- 
periences, ii. 213. 

Yeast, reformers against, iii. 240 ; in- 
spiration like, viii. 257. 

Yellow- breeched philosopher, ix. 41, 

Yezdam prophet, xii. 254. 

Ygdrasil, tree, x. 193. 

Yoganidra, iv. 170 ; vi. 297. 

Yoke of opinions, vi. 149. 

You, another, x. 136. 



Young, Edward, x. 376; quoted, ii. 
294 ; vi. 194. 

Young, ideas always find us, ix. 83. 

Young American, i. 341-372. 

Young, may take a leap in the dark, 
x. 21 ; despise life, iii. 64 ; old head 
on young shoulders, vii. 298. 

Young men, aims, iv. 151 ; x. 239, 
255, 263 ; not to be helpless angels, 
240 ; Carlyle and, 457 ; view of the 
manly character, viii. 288; ten- 
dency to country life, i. 346 ; edu- 
cated above their work, xii. 254 ; 
whose performance is not extraordi- 
nary, ii. 243 ; iii. 55 ; xii. 254 ; lose 
heart, ii. 75 ; make themselves at 
home, vii. 20 ; impediments, i. 220 ; 
innovators, 289 ; young and old do 
not understand each other, ii. 162 ; 
X. 135 ; need patience, i. 114 ; soci- 
ety an illusion to, iii. 191 ; start in 
life, xii. 254 ; work not wanting, 259 ; 
their year a heap of beginnings, vii. 
309. 

Young Men's Republican Club, resolu- 
tion, vii. 302 ; everywhere in place, 
301. 

Youth, actions pictures in the air, i. 
97; love of beauty prolongs, ii. 
256 ; the day too short, vii. 216 ; 
dreams, iii. 193 ; vi. 251 ; follies, 244 ; 
glory, ii. 172 ; admirable health, vii. 
280 ; viii. 261 ; feeling of incompe- 
tency, iv. 175 ; love, ii. 161 ; pas- 
sions, vii. 300 ; perpetual, x. 135 ; 
must prize, viii. 261 ; receptivity, ii. 
298 ; excess of sensibility, vii. 309 ; 
sensual, x. 147; becomes skeptical, 
265; suffers from powers untried, 
vii. 307. 

Zero, result of most lives, x. 216. 
Zertusht. See Zoroaster. 
Zoroaster, iii. 107 ; quoted, i. 203 ; ii. 

78 ; V. 230 ; vi. 74, 194 ; viii. 24. 
Zymosis, viii. 127. 



INDEX OF QUOTATIONS. 



A few strong instincts, ii. 126. — 
Wordsworth : Sonnets to Liberty — 
On Tyrolese. 

A good rider, etc., vi. 138. —Lord Ed- 
ward Herbert of Cherbury. 

A pagan, suckled in a creed outworn, 
i. 130. — Wordsworth : Miscellane- 
ous Sonnets — " The world is too 
much with us." 

A wealthy man, addicted, etc. , i. 259, 
— Milton: Areopagitica (Bohn, ii. 
85). 

Adrastia, law of, lii. 85. — Plato : Ph«- 
drus. 

All summer in the field, iii. 245.— Ful- 
ler : Worthies ; Pym. 

All trivial, fond records, viii. 146. — 
Shakespeare : Hamlet, i. 5. 

Always do what you are afraid to do, 
ii. 245. — Miss Mary Moody Emer- 
son. 

As Heaven and earth, etc., iii. 142. — 
Keats : Hyperion. 

As o'er our heads, etc., viii. 30. — 
Helen M. Williams: Hymn, "My 
God, all nature owns thy sway." 

Be bold, iv. 59. — Spenser : Fairy 

Queen, iii. 11. 
Blasted with excess of light, ii. 264. — 

Gray : Progress of Poesy. 
Brother, if Jove, etc., iii. 156. — He- 

siod. 
But simple truth, etc., x. 411. — Wot- 

ton : The Happy Life. 

Calm pleasures here abide, x. 238. — 
Wordsworth : Laodamia. 

Can these things be, etc., i. 39. — 
Shakespeare : Macbeth, iii. 4. 

Come into the world, etc. , x. 48. — 
Richard Rumbold on scaffold. See 
Macaulay's England. 

Created beings, etc., xi. 344. —Mil- 
ton : Paradise Lost. 

Crush the sweet poison of misused 
wine, ii. 187. —Milton : Comus. 



Dost thou think, etc., viii. 157. — 

Shakespeare : Twelfth Night, ii. 3. 
Drive out Nature, etc., ii. 102. — 

Horace- 
Earth fills her lap, etc., ii. 140. — 
Wordsworth : Intimations of Immor- 
tality. 
Enclosing in a garden square, vii. 143. 

— MarveU : The Mower. 

Enlarge not thy destiny, vi. 74. — 
Chaldean Oracle : Zoroaster. 

Et tunc magna, etc., vii. 312. —Vir- 
gil : Mneid, iv. 654. 

Ever their phantoms, etc., iv. 25.— 
Sterling : Daedalus. 

Fair hangs the apple from the rock, 

xii. 180. —The Braes of Yarrow: 

Wm. Hamilton. 
Far have I clambered, etc., xi. 344. — 

Henry More : Love and Humility. 
For evil word, etc., xi. 225. — .^schy- 

lus : Choephori, 307. 
For never will come back, etc., vii. 

281. — Wordsworth : Intimations of 

Immortality. 
For they can conquer, etc., viii. 142. 

— Dryden. 

Forgive his crimes, etc., ii. 295. — 

Young. 
Forms that men spy, vii. 174. — Scott : 

Monastery. 
Fountain heads, etc., ii. 168. — Beau* 

mont and Fletcher : The Nice 

Valour, iii. 3. 

Good thoughts are no better, etc., i. 
43. — Bacon. 

Half of their charms, etc., vi. 287. — 

Scott : Dying Bard. 
He is preserved from harm, viii. 169. 

— Plato : Phaedrus. 

He nothing common did, xii. 116. — 
Marvell: Upon Cromwell's Return 
from Ireland. 



352 



INDEX OF QUOTATIONS. 



He that can endure, iv. 86. — Shake- 
speare : Antonj' and Cleopatra, Hi. 11. 

Head with foot, etc., x. 10. — Herbert : 
Man. 

Heaven kindly gave, etc., vi. 194. — 
Young. 

Hengist had verament, vi. 107. — 
Merlin : Ellis : Early English Metri- 
cal Romances. 

Her pure and eloquent blood, etc., ii. 
175. — Donne : Elegy on Mistress 
Drury. 

High instincts, etc., x. 96. —Words- 
worth : Intimations of Immortality. 

Hunc solem, etc., viii. 214. — Horace : 
Epist., i. 6. 

I think he'll be to Rome, etc., x. 47. 

— Shakespeare : Coriolauus, iv. 7. 

I well believe, etc., x. 30. —Shake- 
speare : Henry IV., Part I., ii. 3. 
If knowledge calleth unto practice, 

etc., i. 211. — Sentences of All, 

Ockley's Saracens. 
If my bark sink, iv. 177. — W. E. 

Chaiming : The Poet's Hope. 
If tliat fail, etc., xi. 298. —Milton: 

Comus. 
In the afternoon we came, etc., xii. 

200. — Tennyson : The Lotus-Eaters. 
In the heat of the battle, etc., i. 330. — 

Landor : Pericles and Aspasia. 
Incertainties now crown themselves 

assui-ed, xi. 303. — Shakespeare : 

S.unetCVII. 
Indee-r '<" takes from our achievements, 

iv. 95. — Shakespeare : Hamlet, i. 4. 
Indeed, these humble considerations, 

etc., ii. 238. — Shakespeare : II. 

Henry IV., ii. 2. 
Indignation makes verses, viii. 119. — 

Horace. 
Into paint I will grind thee, iii. 229. 

— Washington AUston: The Paint- 
King. 

It o'erinforms the tenement, iv. 95. — 
Dryden, Absalom and Achitophel. 

It was a great instruction, etc., vii. 
33. — Life of Col. Hutchinson. 

Let India boast her palms, v. 94. — 
Pope. 

Let them rave, ii. 248. — Tennyson : 
A Dirge. 

Looks in and sees each blissful deity, 
X. 119. —Milton: Vacation Exer- 
cises. 

Magno se judice, etc., x. 405. — Lucan. 
Man alone can perform the impossible, 
i. 366. — Goethe. 



Men cannot exercise, etc. , vii. 157. — 

Plutarch : Morals. 
More servants wait on man, etc., i. 19. 

— George Herbert : Man. 

My Cid with fleecy beard, viii. 303. — 
Southey : Chronicle of the Cid. 

Nature is made better, etc., iv. 86. — 
Shakespeare : Winter's Tale, iv. 3. 

Nature puts me out, v. 241. — Fuseli. 

Ne te quitsiveris extra, ii. 45. — Per- 
sius, Sat. I. 7. 

No, it was builded, etc., i. 57. — 
Shakespeare : Sonnets, cxxiv. 

No profit flows, etc., vii. 188. — Shake- 
speare : Taming of the Shrew, i. 1. 

Not as the store, etc., vii. 124. — 
Menander — quoted in Plutarch's 
Morals. 

Notes with many a winding bout, xii. 
158. - Milton : L'Allegro. 

O wad ye tak' a thought, etc., iv. 133. 

— Burns : To the Devil. 

Of all the gods, etc., ii. 103. — ^schy- 

lus : Furies. 
Of old things all are over old, x. 305. 

— Wordsworth : Rob Roy's Grave. 
Of wrong and outrage, x. 415. — 

Cowper : Task, II. 
On two days, etc., vi. 11 ; ix. 248. — 

Omar Khayyam. 
One avenue, etc., x. 179. — Keats: 

Hyperion. 
Or if a soul, etc., vi. 48. — Chaucer : 

House of Fame. 
Our garden, etc., i. 344. —Euripides ; 

Medea. 

ndvTa pel, viii. 190. — Heraclitus. 
Presenting Thebes' and Pelops' line, 

iv. 188. — Milton : II Penseroso. 
Prisca juvant alios, viii. 198. — Ovid : 

Ars Amatoria, iii. 121. 

Quisque suos patimur manes, vi. 45. 

— Virgil : iEueid, iv. 

Rightly to be great, etc., x. 167. — 
Shakespeare : Hamlet, iv. 4. 

Seekest thou great things ? vi. 263. — 
Jeremiah, xlv. 5. 

Semper sibi similis, x. 170. — Lin- 
naeus. 

She was so fair, etc., vi. 198. — Chau- 
cer : Legend of Good Women. 

Since neither now nor yesterdaj', iii. 
73. — Sophocles : Antigone, 456. 

Slighted Minerva's learned tongue, 
viii. 272. — Original. 



INDEX OF QUOTATIONS. 



353 



Stately steppes he, etc., xii. 180. — 

Hardykaute : Percy's Relics. 
Strikes the electric chain, etc., viii. 

280. 
Success shall be, etc., vii. 271. — 

Svend Vonved, trans, by George 

Borrow. 
Sunshine was he, etc., i. 242. — Arab 

poet, trans, by Goethe. 

'T is man's perdition to be safe. — R. 

Vines. 
'Tis not every day, etc., viii. 263. — 

Herrick : Hesperides. 
'Tis said, best men, etc., vi. 245. — 

Shakespeare : Measure for Measure, 

V. 1. 
'Tis still observed, etc., vii. 255.— 

Herrick : More Modest, More 

Manly. 
'Tis the most difficult of tasks, viii. 

280. — Wordsworth. 
'Tis virtue, etc., xi. 403. — Ben Jon- 
son : Cynthia's Revels. 
Take those lips away, i. 58. — Shake- 
speare : Measure for Measure, iv. 1. 

Also Beaumont and Fletcher : 

Bloody Brother. 
The best lightning rod, etc., x. 50.— 

Thoreau. 
The blood of twenty thousand men, 

etc., vii. 66. — Shakespeare : Richard 

II. 
The curse of the country, etc., vii. 

76. — Daniel Webster. 
The Destiny, minister general, etc., 

vi. 11. — Chaucer : the Knights 

Tale. 
The far-fetched diamond, etc., xi. 

343. — Coventry Patmore : The 

Angel in the House. 
The fiery soul, x. 188. — M. M. Em- 
erson. 
The Furies are the bonds of men, vi. 

245. — Chaldean Oracles. 
The gods are to each other, etc., iii. 

110. — Homer: Odyssey, v. 79. 
The name of death, etc., viii. 312. — 

Beaumont and Fletcher : Double 

Marriage. 
The ornament of beauty is suspect, 

i. 57. — Shakespeare : Sonnets, Ixx. 
The person love doth to us fit, ii. 177. 

— Cowley. 

The privates of man's heart, viii. 15. 

— Gower. 

The pulses of her iron heart, vii. 28. — 
O. W. Holmes : The Steamboat. 

The ruggedest hour, etc., v. 127. — 
Shakespeare : II. Henry IV., i. 1. 



The valiant warrior, etc., ii. '191. — 

Shakespeare : Sonnet xxv. 
Their highest praising, ii. 274. — 

Milton : Areopagitica (Bohn, ii. 57). 
Their strength is to sit still, xii. 267. 

— Isaiah xxx. 7. 

There is now no longer, etc., iii. 62; 

xii. 254. — Desatir, Persian prophet. 

These we must join to wake, xi. 470. 

— Ben Jonson ; Golden Age Re- 
stored. 

They come in dim procession led, x. 

10.— Scott : Lady of the Lake, I. 
This coat, etc., viii. 87. — Herbert: 

Church Porch. 
Thou art not gone, etc., ii. 16T. 

Donne : Epithalamion. 
Tho' fallen on evil days, viii. 50. — 

Milton : Paradise Lost. 
Tho' love repine, etc., x. 98. —R. W. 

Emerson, Poems, ix. 243. .^ 

Thy lot or portion of life, etc., ii. 86. 

Sentences of Ali. — Ockley's Sara- 
cens. 
Time drinketh up the essence, xi. 

288. — Vishnoo Sarma. 
To obtain them, etc., vii. 18. — Bacon : 

Of Ceremonies. 
To tread the floors of hell, viii. 220. — 

Pindar, quoted in Plutarch's Morals. 

Unless above himself, etc. , vii. 33. — 
Samuel Daniel : To Countess of 
Cumberland. 

Vich Ian Vohr, iii. 130. 'icott : 
Waverley. 

We who speak the tongue, etc., viii. 
70. — Wordsworth : Sonnets to Lib- 
erty. 

What may this mean ? iv. 197. — 
Shakespeare : Hamlet, i. 4. 

What, old mole, etc., ii. 337. — Shake- 
speare : Hamlet, i. v. 

When each the other shall avoid, iii. 
110.— R. W. Emerson : Celestial 
Love. 

When Omar prayed, x. 102. — Original. 

Why do you speak, etc., iv. 130. — 
Plutarch : Lycurgus. 

Winds blow, etc., ii. 112. —Words- 
worth : Sonnets to Liberty. — " In- 
land, within a hollow vale." 

With their stony eyes, etc., xii. 267. 

Zeus hates busy-bodies, vii. 293. — 
Euripides : Fragment of Philoctetes. 
See Aristotle's Ethics (Bohn, 164). 



713 '^iifi 










X^^' 



-^^' 






rO ^ " '' '' -? <e. 



\ 



#\.'^ 






V"'^ Vc^-o- 



.0^ 









,vS^-' '^/>- 



o 0^ 



'■ "^:<^a^%. .^^ y^m^ 









fe* : "^o 0^ 



.> 












^ V. -^ . , .>:^' ^ 















vOC^ 



^<^. 



\' >^ 






^>. * s 



v^^^ 



.'N 



%. 









C^^ 



V^^t^^O^ .) c. r,"^""^^:^^ .^ J" '^;^ - 



..*''^- 






no' ^^-^^ 



tP w^ 



•x^^'' '% 



r. ■ - A^ 






o 0^ 






.^ 



f^^j^'A 












,^-^ -i 



^,^ 



v-^' 






'>0 -A 



\ s^ 



'CO' 



>■ .-N^ V ' * / -^^ -^ ^ '^ V 






^^ 









.V ''^^ 






.^-^ -^ 



°// 






^.p ,^x^' 












% 


^v 


w- ,■ 


.^'' 




L* 


< \ ' 


« -V 


-^o 


Z^'??., ' 


'3 












0°' 



C"".>\^^:'/."' 



